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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187432">To Carry On</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenMJagonshi/pseuds/RavenMJagonshi'>RavenMJagonshi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Ball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alternate Timelines, Found Family, Fusion, Grief/Mourning, Hermaphrodites, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Size Difference</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:13:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,623</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187432</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenMJagonshi/pseuds/RavenMJagonshi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the weeks after the end of the Cell Games, Krillin finds himself reflecting on the past. He seeks to find a purpose in a world that forgot about him and friends that have out grown him. Is it cowardice or compassion that drives him offer his enemies a second chance? Or maybe he was just naive. Piccolo certainly thinks so. Because only someone naive would go against God to save a demon child...right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Krillin/Piccolo (Dragon Ball), Piccolo Daimao/Krillin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Moving On Without a Roadmap</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/743686">What We're Left</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenMJagonshi/pseuds/RavenMJagonshi">RavenMJagonshi</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a reworked (and hopefully better) version of "What We're Left". </p>
<p>This takes place in the obscure events after the end of the Cell Games. I tried (and probably failed) to keep Piccolo in character as he is at the end of the Cell Games. </p>
<p>!Update! So, this was written back in 2013 and I was planning on going through and editing, but the first-person perspective was distracting and it made it hard to edit as is. I’ll keep the original available elsewhere, but I’ve rewritten much of it. Same premise, same tone, just, (hopefully) better.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It seemed to take hours for the rumbling to fade as the shockwaves dissipated. Dust clouds filled the air to blot out the sun. They had pulled back to avoid the blast and now waiting to see what the fate of the world would be. He was afraid to try and seek out an energy signature. Afraid he’d find some bit of the monster remained and their last hope far too weak to do anything about it. He’d fight, of course. They all would to the very last, but Krillin was never one for last stands, even if he’d participated in more than his share of them. If this hadn’t worked, if Cell was still alive, there wasn't a second chance. No dragon balls would stop the destruction of Earth.</p>
<p>When the dust finally cleared, everything stood frozen in time. No wind, no movement, not a sound. Not even the ragged breaths coming from those who stood on the battlefield broke the stillness. Bodies numb, hearts pounding away with no feeling. A crater materialized out of the dust and debris, a lone figure wavering above it. Gohan was still alive, but weak and looked a few seconds from death. His energy was fading fast, even as he struggled to stay in the air.</p>
<p>There were no signs of anyone else. No body parts or jellified smear in the dirt. No pulsing tissue to reform after they left. Krillin strained his sense to search for any faint trace of ki. They all were. He pushed his concentration until he felt blood pulse in his ears. He found nothing. Cell was gone.</p>
<p>They’d won.</p>
<p>Gohan had won. His body heaved with each breath and his limbs hung limp. Blood dripped freely from his mangled arm. The golden light surrounding him flicked and died. Krillin hovered, paralyzed and helpless, as he watched as the Earth’s savior plummet to the ground.</p>
<p>Krillin couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t think of anything. It was so surreal. A dream he never thought would come true. But here it was, and his brain couldn’t fathom what had happened. Everything about it was crazy. He was sure part of it was denial. Maybe some sort of self-preservation reaction he’d developed over the years; Don’t assume you’re ever safe and you won’t ever be off guard. Only Piccolo’s voice, baritone pitched with incredulity, broke through the haze.</p>
<p>“He... he did it. Cell’s energy has completely vanished.” Awe radiated from the Namek’s form.</p>
<p>A dam had broken, and all at once, he found his voice again. “But…you mean we’re really safe again?” Safe. Was that what this feeling was? So many years striving to be stronger to protect themselves and those they loved, safe was a foreign concept for them. What was safe when there was always something out trying to kill them? Was this how normal people felt?</p>
<p>Krillin could hear Tien and Yamcha speaking, but his hearing faded in and out with his pulsing heart. His mind rebelled against the notion, disconnecting from reality. Safe. It had been more than a few years since he’d been able to say with any certainty that they were safe. But here he was, standing on the battlefield. They enemy was dead. No others on the horizon. And they were alive. Something about it felt wrong, and Krillin briefly wondered if he had suffered brain damage from the aftershocks of Gohan’s energy blast.</p>
<p>Laughter echoed through the stillness. Gohan, no doubt in nothing short of agony, was laughing. Krillin was almost prepared to join him. The lot of them, laying in the dirt laughing in the insanity of their lives. Instead, he knelt beside Gohan’s prone body and took in his condition. Beaten to within an inch of his life and Gohan was still breathing and still had enough wits about him to twitch his hand in Krillin’s direction. It still astounded him how durable they were, these Saiyans. Even after all of that, Gohan was still awake. Krillin knows he wouldn’t be. Hell, after that, he’d be dead.</p>
<p>“Look at him. Looks like saving the world can take it’s toll on you.” Disbelief seemed to ring true for everyone; even Piccolo’s voice seemed floaty and unsure.</p>
<p>Krillin blinked<em>. Saving the world took its toll on all of us.</em></p>
<p>Krillin watched as one by one his friends touched down. Their breaths faltered and bodies sagged. Tien and Yamcha held onto one another for support. Vegeta hung back from some remaining outcropping.</p>
<p>A soft and shaky hand slipped into his and Krillin turned his attention back to the boy struggling to stay awake. “Hey, Gohan. Let me ask you something. Were you holding back-a your power all that time just to scare us? ‘Cuz boy it worked. And don’t worry about those burses, Gohan. We’ll get Dende to fix you right up. You’ll feel like a zillion bucks.” There he was blabbing again. He couldn’t never find anything useful to do except talk. He couldn’t reach out to pick up the boy, the <em>child,</em> that had just saved his life and was reaching to him for comfort. He couldn’t have fought in his stead. He couldn’t do anything except fill the air to break through the haze that still clouded his thoughts.</p>
<p>“Hey I got ya big guy.” Krillin stood back as Yamcha picked the boy up. So small. So fragile. Gohan was just a boy and yet with everything he’d gone through, it seemed he was nighen indestructible. Krillin was almost ready to say that there was no force on Earth that could take Gohan out, but he really didn’t want the Universe to take it as a challenge.</p>
<p>Krillin could see the muscles in his neck straining just to hold his head up. “Sorry for the mess.” Gohan croaked before his ki disappeared completely and he fell limp. Krillin could feel his heart racing again. What if there was something wrong they didn’t know about? What if Gohan had internal bleeding? They didn’t have any sensu left. They’d used the last of them to keep themselves alive.   </p>
<p>“GOHAN!”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry Krillin, he’s just exhausted that’s all.” Yamcha’s reassurance fails to calm his nerves. He feels jumpy and on guard. Maybe he’s still expecting Cell to pop up at any moment and dispatch the whole area with one flick of his fingers.</p>
<p>Maybe he was just tired of feeling useless.</p>
<p>A brief stop on the far cliff to retrieve the bodies gave Krillin enough time to really consider the fallout of the day. So many dead. So much loss. Sixteen, Trunks and now, even Goku. All dead. Life was so fragile wasn’t it? Here one moment, gone the very next.</p>
<p>Krillin shook himself. He needed to focus on those that were still alive and needed help. Both Gohan and Eighteen needed help if they were going to make it passed the day. Krillin lifted the unconscious woman into his arms even as his friends chided him. He couldn’t just leave her there. She wasn’t a threat anymore. Even if she was, she hadn’t really done anything wrong. They hadn’t killed anyone. Never had the chance. And the only one she’d ever really hurt was Vegeta, and Krillin is willing to admit he’s pretty okay with that. She and Seventeen deserved a second chance. Hell, they gave Vegeta one. And Piccolo. Who’s to say they won’t turn over a new leaf.</p>
<p>Nevermind that Krillin was hopelessly infatuated. </p>
<p>Not that he thought it would ever really work out. He had about as much chance of wooing her as he did of beating Goku in a fight. But it was fine. He wasn’t doing this so she would like him. Okay, that wasn’t completely true, he was <em>hoping</em> she would like him, but he was mainly doing it because it was the right thing to do.</p>
<p>He hadn’t made it far from the cliff before his senses tugged at his attention. He wasn’t being followed. Neither Vegeta nor Piccolo had moved to join them. He paused, watching Yamcha and Tien fade into the distance and waited. He could see them, but the wind carried any sound away from his ears. He wasn’t sure he would have heard anything anyway. He was just a human, he didn’t have super hearing.</p>
<p>He could probably call out, but his throat had already been scrubbed raw today. It felt like he had swallowed steel wool. With Piccolo’s hearing, a whisper would be enough. Probably. Krillin swallowed and took a breath.</p>
<p>“Is everything Ok? Are you guys hurt?” No response came. Maybe Piccolo hadn’t heard him? Or maybe they were distracted by…Oh God. “He’s gone…right?” <em>Oh Gods above, please be gone!</em></p>
<p>But he didn’t have to wait long before a flash of blue ki turned to fly towards him. Vegeta made no move to follow. <em>I guess His Majesty won’t be joining us. Stuck up ass. </em>He waited as Piccolo caught up.</p>
<p>“Hey, what’s…?” But Piccolo interrupted.</p>
<p>“Everything’s fine, Krillin. Just a few words between warriors.”</p>
<p>Krillin nodded and turned to follow his friends</p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p>̶</p>
<p>After hearing that is oldest friend would rather stay in otherworld, Krillin was at a loss. Sure, the world was safe, but the ending was bittersweet. Or, He supposes, the beginning, depending on your perspective of life. Either way, things would never be the same again. Yes, they were safe. Yes, Gohan just proved that he was the most powerful being in existence by saving the world, again. Yes, they could finally move on with their lives and spend time doing the things that were important instead of desperately trying to stay alive. But without his best friend, it felt hollow. No one said anything. There wasn’t much to say anymore.</p>
<p>At the foot of an otherworldly wonder, surrounded by friends and family from both other planets and even through time, Krillin felt tears spill over his cheeks. His best friend was gone. Krillin couldn’t fathom why. Why would he abandon his children, his family like that? Why would he want to abandon his friends like that? Was he afraid? He didn’t sound afraid, but then, Goku never did. He was always sure of himself. So happy, brave. He gave others hope when they couldn’t find it themselves. As long as Goku had hope, then Krillin could strive for more. Goku gave him the courage to fight against the odds. He isn’t sure he’ll have the same courage without him.</p>
<p>Krillin felt his chest twist and his breaths grew short. He could force the issue. He could still use their last wish to call on Porunga and deal with the fallout. Gohan deserved to be able to grow up with his father around. Chi-chi deserved to have the man she loved in her life. But he couldn’t. Goku wanted to stay in otherworld, and while Krillin thought it was the worst damned idea since Vegeta let Cell go, he can’t deny his friends request. Even if every fiber of his being told him he should. He just had to live with it now. They all did.</p>
<p>“Your wish. Make it. It is Time.” </p>
<p>Right. They still had a wish left. Too bad they didn’t have anything left to wish for.</p>
<p>Although…</p>
<p>Well, maybe there were some others he could help. They were innocent…mostly. They didn’t deserve what happened to them. And if Android Seventeen and Eighteen were human again, they might be able to start their lives over.</p>
<p>It was worth it to try, at least.</p>
<p>̶̶</p>
<p>Well, giving them some sense of humanity back was better than nothing at all. It couldn’t erase what Gero did to them, but it could lessen the feeling of being little more than sentient weapons. And Krillin won’t lie, learning that Seventeen was Eighteen’s bother and not her boyfriend gave him a bit more hope. Maybe. She did thank him…sort of. Well, it wasn't asking him on a date, but it also wasn’t a punch to the face, so he’d take it. Watching her leave had been hard, but maybe they would see each other again.  </p>
<p>It was still hard to be in the moment. Krillin found it all to easy to slip back into his own thoughts, even as his friends stood around cracking jokes. Hell, the whole of his life was surreal. Who’d have guessed that meeting Goku all those years ago would lead to this? He’d befriended aliens, fought monsters built by a literal mad scientist, and even visited another planet. Amazing things that had become second nature that he had thought beyond his reach growing up in the monastery. They really had been through Hell and back, hadn’t they? This gaggle of misfits. But they had always been there for each other. Even when things were their most dire. Like family. These people were his family, weren’t they? Brothers and Sisters in arms. He never thought he would have one.</p>
<p>Krillin never knew his parents. Left alone at three in an empty village struck by some plague. The masters at the Orin Temple had found him digging through their storehouse for food. But while they tried to instill loyalty in him by telling him they were his family, he never believed it. Never felt it until he’d started training under his Master. Turtle Hermit Roshi, while perverse and at times underhanded and sneaky, taught him about honor, what real strength was and when to use it. He learned the truth of perseverance over taking shortcuts, and that his actions had consequences. And he still couldn’t think of a better workout than a day of chores.</p>
<p>The Turtle Hermit had guided Krillin through his adolescence, and for better or worse, Krillin was he man he was thanks to what his Master taught him. Both what to do, and what not to do. When he’d learned all that his master had to teach, he looked to the old hermit like a father. And even though he had moved on with his training and ventured off on his own, he still thought of Kame House as home.  </p>
<p>Krillin would never tell the man that. He’s not prepared for the consequences of that conversation. He’s still reeling from when he accidentally called Kami ‘Dad’. The Guardian had taken it in stride, though. Kami, the previous guardian of the Earth, taught him about humanity; its capacity for both wonderfully unprompted kindness and generosity, and terrifying and pitiless cruelty. That of those two extremes, humanity lived in a perpetual state of grey; that even the best person is flawed and even the worst is redeemable. Even Vegeta is worth a second chance….and even Goku can be ruthless.</p>
<p>Of the two, Krillin supposes he learned more from Kami. His Master taught him martial arts and guided him to maturity, but Kami taught him about the world. Kami was there to listen to his fears and anxiety, and while the guardian never detracted from the real danger, he encouraged Krillin to push further and reach for the impossible. Kami never called Krillin weak, never ridiculed him for his more embarrassing acts of cowardice . Just encouraged, corrected, and listened. Krillin doubts he would have improved as much as he did without Kami’s guidance. One of his many regrets is not being able to thank Kami for everything he had done. Though Kami was a title, a role, not a name. Dende was the new Kami now. The old Namek had been so crucial in his development, and yet Krillin never learned his name.  Was “The son of Kataas” sufficient enough? Even though his legacy survived, the man had faded from the realm of the living.</p>
<p>Though, that may not be entirely true.</p>
<p>He didn’t die, exactly. How did fusion between Namekians work? Did Piccolo remember? Did he have any of Kami’s memories? So many questions he really should have asked long before now. Earth had been home to the entire race of Nameks for almost two years and Krillin never asked all of the questions he had. He had thought about it, but it had felt too rude. They had lost so much; it was insensitive to grill them about their biology.</p>
<p>He missed them. Krillin had hardly knew them, but he missed them. They were kind and ready to drop everything to help a stranger in need. At the time, it was the balm his soul needed. Krillin would jump at the chance to go back to Namek, so long as he didn’t have to run for his life. It was good to have a piece of that with Dende choosing to remain as the new guardian of Earth. And as much as Piccolo may dislike him, Krillin knew he was safe with the Namek around. Most likely caused by some remnant or memory of Kami. Krillin used to be so scared of what Piccolo became. So insistent on carrying out his predecessor’s wishes and so sure of his vendetta against Goku. It was hard to believe that the scared child Krillin had rescued years before could grow to the terrifying man he saw that day.</p>
<p>Not so much anymore. Gohan had broken through and melted the ice over the Namek’s heart. Though Piccolo always claimed that he was using them to take over the world, Krillin knew it was just a ruse. Some veneer to protect his image. He’s glad. He wasn't looking forward to the day he had to choose between his friends. Thanks to Gohan, he would never have to. The kid was amazing. And Krillin would do everything he could to make sure Gohan had the life he deserved.</p>
<p>The air shifted, and Krillin knew it was time to go their separate ways. Time to seek out loved ones left at home and tell them the news. Time to plan for what the life would bring them. And to give proper send off to the man that defied time to help them. And Gohan’s voice, more joyful than any of them had heard in more days than they could count, rang out over the world.   </p>
<p>“Alright. This is it! The first day of the rest of our lives!”</p>
<p>It gave him hope.</p>
<p>̶</p>
<p>Just like when he was younger, Krillin finds himself laying on the roof of Kame House, staring at the night sky. The shingles dig into the skin on his arms and neck, but it doesn’t bother him as much as it used to. He wishes he could sleep. But his mind wont stop racing. And the less he thinks about his dreams, the better. He’s woken up crying more than once. </p>
<p>Two days. It had been two days since Trunks went back to the future. Two days since they went their separate ways and tried to resume some semblance of normal life. Tien and Chiaotzu disappeared into the mountains somewhere and Yamcha got a call back from some gym looking for a personal fitness instructor. Krillin isn’t sure where Vegeta was, but likely somewhere around Capsule Corp. 50/50, Piccolo was staying with Dende or was keeping a close eye on Gohan. Poor Gohan was struggling to keep his mother from falling apart and hitting the books to keep her happy. Krillin feels for the kid, but he is not about to tempt Chi-chi’s wrath to visit him. Besides. He doesn’t want to impose on a grieving widow.</p>
<p>At the ends of it all, Krillin finds himself right back where it all started. He’s at a loss of what to do. Stuck in a limbo state of not knowing what’s next. He’d spent his life training. And every instance after was simply doing what he could to keep the Earth and his friends safe. Krillin hadn’t bothered to devote any time to decide what he wanted to do with his life. He’d been playing superhero for so long, he’d forgotten how to be a normal person. Though he doubts he could ever pretend to be completely normal anyway. He’d missed out on a lot of life milestones. He was thankful Gohan would have the chance to have a bit of that normal childhood.</p>
<p>Maybe he would go out and visit Gohan in a week or so. Just to see how the kid was doing. And maybe see if Chi-Chi would let him take Gohan camping or something. He wasn’t a substitute for Goku, but he would be there if he could. Besides, Piccolo could teach Gohan martial arts, but not much about anything else.</p>
<p>A dot of light emerges from the horizon and Krillin picks up on a ki signature. It’s hesitant, flying slow. Could be lost, but Piccolo isn’t one to get lost. And Krillin is sure it is Piccolo; hard to mistake that ki for anyone else.</p>
<p>
  <em>Think of the devil and he shall appear! </em>
</p>
<p>Piccolo touches down on the apex of the roof and walks the length of the beam. His steps, usually silent, reverberate through the shingles. With the moon a bare crescent, there isn’t much in the way of light. With his cape flapping in the constant sea breeze, he looks foreboding. A black silhouette in the night.</p>
<p>Krillin shifts, sitting up and bracing his feet to keep from sliding down the roof’s incline. Piccolo doesn’t exactly seek out people to spend time with. Gohan being the only exception. But Gohan was the exception to a lot of things. It still doesn’t explain why Piccolo was there. And the Namek wasn't offering any answers even as he sat beside Krillin to watch the ocean waves.</p>
<p>Krillin bit the inside of his lip. He was more than aware he had a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth when it came to talking to people. Even more so when he was intimidated. And Piccolo was the embodiment of intimidating. And just a little cool.</p>
<p>Krillin had always admired Piccolo. He had this aura about him, confidence and silent power that demanded respect. Even during the twenty third Tenkaichi Budokai when they weren’t sure if Goku could beat him.  Or maybe he was just being sentimental. Piccolo had, well…</p>
<p>
  <em>Best not think about that. </em>
</p>
<p>Krillin clears this throat and tugs at a stray thread on his pant leg as he speaks. “What’s up, big guy? Gohan isn’t here.” Krillin cringes at himself. Of course, Piccolo knew that Gohan wasn’t there. He was at home with his mom. “What I mean is, there isn’t anyone else here. Just me and Roshi.” Krillin thinks he should be used to the taste of his own foot by now, but it still bitter, and filled with shame, and makes him want to bang his head against a wall.</p>
<p>Piccolo hums and seems hypnotized by the waves. Krillin can’t see his face, so there was no telling what kind of mood he was in, but his posture was loose: hands clasped in his lap instead of crossed over his chest. “Exactly. I needed the quiet. Honestly, I can’t stand him, I don’t care how Kami felt. I don’t need someone fawning over me.”</p>
<p>Krillin can’t help but laugh. He remembers how diligent Mr. Popo was at keeping Kami entertained and comfortable. Kami took it in stride be Krillin doubts that Piccolo is as patient. “He’s just excited to have company again. Remember, he’s been up there for who knows how long assisting the guardians of Earth. I mean, after you left, he was stuck up there all by himself. And he’s not sure how to act around you. You’re Kami, but also not Kami.” He sighs. “I can understand the feeling.”</p>
<p>It’s been weeks, and Krillin is still not sure what Piccolo and Kami’s fusion meant. Piccolo seemed to retain the basic knowledge of both Nail and Kami, but Krillin wasn’t sure how concrete those memories were. Or even if ‘Piccolo’ was even an appropriate name anymore. It meant “Other World’ or something in the Namekian language, didn’t it? Krillin knew some, though not much. Taught by a young Piccolo in the years before the Twenty Third Martial Arts Tournament. He’d gotten better at speaking it during the Namekians' stay on Earth, but he was sure he’d still fumble his way through a conversation.</p>
<p>Piccolo growled. “In either case, I can’t concentrate on my meditation with him constantly asking if I need anything.”</p>
<p>Krillin bites his lip to keep a laugh from spilling from his mouth. He’s familiar with how hard Piccolo’s punches can be, he doesn’t need a reminder. But he can’t hold back everything. He tries to disguise it as a cough, but he can feel Piccolo’s eyes glare into the back of his head and into his brain and suddenly Krillin is <em>very</em> interested in the patterns the waves made.</p>
<p>It was kind of nice, sitting like this. Not training, not a prelude to some horrible battle that was sure to leave more than one of them dead. And then Krillin had to open his big mouth again and ruin the moment.  </p>
<p>“You know you’re always welcome. Heck, we’ve got a spare mattress. Dunno if it will be a comfortable fit, but Tien’s slept in it just fine. I mean, if you don’t mind sharing. I…uh…” Krillin trailed off and waited for the growling to start. He really didn’t know how to shut up did he? That’s what got him into so much trouble in his youth. He’d talk and talk and not think about anything he said and inevitably say something…</p>
<p>“Maybe.”</p>
<p>Krillin’s heart lurches and pounds against his sternum. He was expecting a cuff to the head or for Piccolo to push him off the roof. He wasn't expecting an answer, not to mention a ‘Yes’. Because with Piccolo, ‘Maybe’ was always ‘Yes’. Heck, if it wasn't a flat out ‘No’, it usually meant ‘Yes’. Piccolo was weird like that. Hard to read, but Krillin was getting batter at it. Maybe if he spent more time with the Namek he could get as good as Gohan. If he’s lucky. Now that he thinks about it, that does bring up another point. </p>
<p>“Not to, well, what I mean to say, um…” Why? Why couldn’t he shut up? Just leave it. Krillin bites his lips and actually tries to swallow his tongue. If Piccolo came out here for quiet, Krillin was sure making it real inhospitable. Way to make a guy feel welcome.  </p>
<p>“Spit it out.” Piccolo’s voice carries only faint traces of agitation and Krillin rushes to answer to avoid irritating him further.</p>
<p>“Why come here? I mean, I know Chi-Chi would throw a fit, but…” The ‘why come to me’ is left unspoken. It was rude to ask, he knows it. It’s not that Piccolo isn’t free to drop by, of course he is, it’s just that he never did. They weren’t exactly friends, though they were friendly. Krillin can count on one hand the times Piccolo ventured to Kame House. Piccolo was a reserved person. He chose to remain in solitude, save for humoring Gohan on occasion. Krillin doesn’t know where Piccolo stays. Or if he <em>has</em> a place to stay. And that thought is depressing.  </p>
<p>“He’s…mourning. They both are. If Gohan wants to see me, he can find me. I don’t…want to intrude. And it’s not like I can go anywhere else.” Piccolo’s voice is soft. It’s clear he’s mourning too. In the darkness, Krillin can see Piccolo’s posture droop. He is almost buried beneath the shoulder pauldrins that make up the bulk of his silhouette. He can only imagine what Piccolo was feeling. The entire reason Piccolo existed, was to replace Piccolo Daimao and kill Goku. Krillin had seen the fight, he knows what birthed their rivalry. But Piccolo changed. He lost his ability to hate Goku, and become something like a friend. Now that friend was gone. Krillin feels another stab of grief bury its way into his chest. He wants to reach out to him, but he knows it won’t be welcome. Piccolo isn’t like that.    </p>
<p>“Well it’s nice to know I’ve made it onto your ‘People who are tolerable’ list.” Krillin can’t help but grin. He didn’t really want to acknowledge why it mattered so much that Piccolo liked him, but it still felt good to know it was true.  </p>
<p>“Hah, blame Kami. He was fond of you.” Piccolo’s voice was edged with amusement. “And it seems to have rubbed off on me.” Krillin knew that wasn't true. If it was, then Piccolo wouldn’t be there. He would be at the Lookout with Dende and Mr. Popo. Piccolo was there because he wanted to be. But if that’s the way Piccolo needed to say it, then Krillin would let it be.  </p>
<p>The wind fades a moment and all is silent. A ghost of a whisper passes between them. The vibrations span out in all directions and dissipate. “Not like I’ve got anyone else anymore.” Krillin is sure that he wasn't supposed to hear it. There was more age and weariness in Piccolo’s voice than Krillin was comfortable with. Weariness won by years of life and death battles and hardship. What Piccolo must have seen to make him sound so old, what they’ve all seen, can make even the most naïve of people into old men. Horrors that can’t be forgotten, no matter how hard you try.</p>
<p>Things like watching your friends die, one by one without having the strength or the courage to stop it. Things like lying in a heap without the strength to move and praying to a God who no longer lives that your death will be quick. Things like watching an entire race of innocent people being slaughtered for a glass orb. Things like seeing thousands of people be turned into piles of goo and be…sucked up and ‘eaten’ by a monster. Try as he might, Krillin can’t forget everything he’s seen.</p>
<p>He can’t forget the look on Gohan’s face as he watched his dad disappear. Just as he’ll never forget Piccolo’s scream as he took the Saiyan’s blast head on, or the tears Vegeta shed as he asked, no, begged Goku to kill Frieza for what he had done to their people. Seeing the best of the best, the strongest fall to such lows can make for one doozy of a wakeup call and make you realize how utterly weak and insignificant you really are.</p>
<p>Things like that you don’t forget.</p>
<p>Things like that haunt you in the dead of night and twist up your insides. And Krillin has had more than enough sleepless nights to know his insides are probably knots by now. But they were alive. They had made it to the end, and though it wasn't what he’d hoped, it was far better than he had feared it would be.</p>
<p>The sky begins to lighten and the shadows run for the dark corners. How long had it been since he had watched the sunrise? Probably years. He used to see it every day while training with Goku, delivering milk before the sun rose. The nonsensical patters were etched into his mind to the point Krillin was sure he could finish the route without thinking. Back when all he and Goku were concerned about was getting stronger to compete in the Tenkaichi Budokai. He missed Launch’s cooking, and spending his evenings looking for seashells. Days when he and Goku laughed and played as children should. But they weren’t kids anymore.</p>
<p>They were fighting for their lives and for the lives of everyone they cared about. But it was necessary, because the burden fell on them. The fate of the world, and possibly the universe fell on their shoulders, and it was too much. They weren’t strong enough. Instead, they shifted the burden onto Gohan, a child. A little boy who never got the chance to be a normal kid. Now he had to grow up knowing that he had to step up and be the hero they couldn’t be. They lost a lot more than lives to this never-ending battle.</p>
<p>“He won’t continue.” Piccolo’s voice is soft, almost melancholy. It’s not a tone Krillin is used to hearing from the overly serious Namek. He’s not sure he’s comfortable with it. But the non-sequitur sparks his attention.    </p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“Gohan. He won’t continue training.” Piccolo’s eyes still focus on the horizon as dawn begins. The barest sliver of the golden sun breaches the horizon to paint the world in its light. “He doesn’t want to be a fighter. I don’t know what the future hold for him, but Gohan won’t be Earth’s savior. He can’t be.” It’s as if he’s speaking to the world itself. Telling it that Gohan can’t save it anymore, that it will have to find its heroes elsewhere.  </p>
<p>Krillin snorts. “Reading my mind again?”</p>
<p>“Hard not to when you think so loudly.” He can hear the grin on Piccolo’s face. He’s sure if he had the courage to look, he’d see a sharp set of gleaming fangs. The scar on his shoulder twinges at the thought. Despite numerous senzu beans since, the bite mark Piccolo gave him to fool Garlic Jr. never healed properly. The fight was brutal, both physically, and emotionally. Krillin was convinced that if they weren’t killed by Garlic Jr, they were going to be trapped in the Dead Zone. Piccolo was already fading away, weighting little more than a child in Krillin’s arms. He had tried to protect Piccolo, but even fighting to keep his body stable, Piccolo had to come save him. And Gohan stepped in to save them all. The kid had a bad habit of doing that. Krillin grimaces. If he had the strength he had now back then, they might not have had to rely on Gohan to save them. But he was too busy chasing after a girl who couldn’t love him the way he needed. And then he went and did it again, chasing after another girl way out of his league, and an enemy to boot.  He’d been so wrapped up in his hope that she might like him that he’d inadvertently let Cell reach his final form. And then he used their last wish to help her. What hurts the most, was that Krillin knew he would do it all over again, even knowing what the outcome was. How pathetic was that?</p>
<p>Krillin felt radiating tingles flow over the back of his head. His senses were flooded with a wave of familiar energy. It helped to ease some of the anxiety, even as he clearly felt Piccolo’s presence in his private thoughts. “That was a very brave thing you did. Very brave and very kind.”</p>
<p>An image of the androids pushed its way into his mind. Seventeen was flopped on a collapsed and dingy sofa and Eighteen was poking at the makeshift fire pit made out of a tire rim. They were crashing in some abandoned house in the mountains. Piccolo had been busy doing reconnaissance. “Anyone else would have simply killed her to be done with it. But you were filled with compassion for the enemy, something that true warriors can’t afford.”</p>
<p>So, that was why Piccolo was there. To reprimand him for letting her go. Maybe even a warning for what was to come. They hadn’t done anything. What? Stole a car and defend themselves against Vegeta? They didn’t ask to be turned into cyborgs! Krillin spun to throw himself at Piccolo, falling against the Namek’s leg to keep from rolling off the roof. “You can’t do that! Please! They…” But Piccolo halted his desperate plea with an open palm.</p>
<p>Krillin looked into the eyes that had once filled him with fear and saw something soft, and maybe even affectionate. But Piccolo didn’t reply. Instead, he flexed his palm and watched the morning’s rays reflect off the smooth skin, turning it gold. It highlighted the sharp contours of his face making him look ethereal. A gentile smile pulled at his lips.     </p>
<p>“I wouldn’t be here without that compassion. Nor would Vegeta, and by proxy, Trunks.” Krillin felt the vibrations of the Namek’s voice propagate through him. The tingling sensation at the back of his head seemed to amplify with Piccolo’s words. “The android got through to Gohan in his last moments. He was was crucial in Cell’s defeat in ways that none of us were able to do.”</p>
<p>Krillin felt his body relax against the powerful thigh larger around than some tree trunks. All the fight left him and he was suddenly far more exhausted than one night of sleeplessness should account for. His breathing slowed as he listened to Piccolo’s smooth voice. “How many of us started out as enemies?”</p>
<p>Krillin hummed and answered through a yawn. “All of us. Even I was Goku’s rival when we were kids.” Krillin propped up his head on the warm purple fabric. “But he was so damn charismatic, we ended up as friends. He always offered a hand to his enemies. The ones who accepted became his allies.”   </p>
<p>“It’s a relief to know that that kind of compassion in a warrior did not vanish with Goku.” Krillin felt warmth trail over his face and golden light filled his sight. Maybe he could sleep now.</p>
<p>“You should sleep.”</p>
<p>Krillin chuckled, “Only if you do, big guy. Offer’s still available.”</p>
<p>But Piccolo didn’t respond. Krillin felt the tingling in his head wane and he felt more aware. Enough to realize he had been dozing half in Piccolo’s lap. Krillin sat up with a jolt and felt a wave of heat over his face that had nothing to do with the sun. His nervous laugh followed soon after. “Maybe it <em>is</em> time for bed.”</p>
<p>Krillin scrambles to the edge of the roof and floats down to the sand below. He really needed to work on not making a fool of himself. He wonders if there was any training he could do to increase his confidence. Probably not. He’d have to stick with just increasing his strength. Because he would. He would get stronger. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be on equal footing with the Sayians, but that didn’t mean he was going to let them fight his battles for him. Krillin would keep training, keep getting better. And maybe he might just be able to help protect his family. They were his family. And he was going to hold onto them as tight as he could.</p>
<p>Krillin took in a deep breath of the salty sea air. The sun had risen enough for the beautiful reds and oranges to give way to muted pinks and yellows. His Master was going to tell him off for staying up all night, but Krillin can’t bring himself to care much. The gulls flying overhead call to one another. Their chips and squawks blissful. Life goes on. The Earth turns another day and the sun rises once again. Hopefully, to a better and brighter future. Yeah, Krillin would be alright. Not right away. But in time. As long as the sun rose every day and he had his family, he could hold onto hope for a better tomorrow.</p>
<p>The wind dies and Krillin could almost make out the flap of a cape or the sound of careful footfalls in the sand. Hundreds of tiny grains shifting under the weight of hesitant steps.</p>
<p>~End~     </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Night Terrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The night brings back memories. Piccolo reflects on the moment he met Krillin years ago.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It always began with wolves. Their howls and snarls and the sound of heavy paws through the underbrush. He could hear them panting. Jaws snapping and hot, rancid breath over his neck. Piercing eyes filled with starvation followed his every step, waiting for him to falter. He had never run faster than he had that night. He didn’t even know how many there were. He dared not look back.</p><p>The trees closed in around him with every passing second. The muscles in his legs burned. A sharp pain radiated from his side. His lungs felt deflated and empty. He was wearing down. Every step they were getting closer. Fur matted with soil and hot breath smelling of death and rot slid passed his neck. Fangs that had torn apart flesh and bone scraped against his ear. Junior forced himself to run faster. His body screamed at him to stop, to rest but he couldn’t. The trees began moving, dancing and blurring together, heaving back and forth as he ran. The path twisted an turned and undulated but his feet kept running on flat ground. Water dripped onto his lips tasting of salt and fear.</p><p>He was going to die.</p><p>He couldn’t keep running. They were going to catch him, and eat him. Would they kill him first, of would they tear parts of him off while he screamed? He hadn’t even made it a full six months. His father had sent him into the world to continue his work and to kill Son Goku. He was meant to gain strength and learn about the world in the the coming years to take his rightful place as ruler of the Earth. Instead, he was going to die, alone and torn apart by wolves. He was a failure. A worthless child that couldn’t survive a year on his own.</p><p>A hulking mass lunged and rammed him into the ground. The weight ground his face into the forest floor. He could hear the growling echoing all around him. The drool, thick and slimy, dripping onto his neck. He wasn’t strong enough to fight them all off. He was going to die. No one was going to help him. Why would they? He was a demon. No one cared about him at all. No one but his father. But his father was dead. His father couldn’t save him.</p><p>He screamed.</p><p>But the death blow never came. Instead, growls and snorts filled the air around him. Light streaked across the sky, illuminating the darkness. A thundering roar shook the ground as the light crashed into the forest. The weight lifted from Junior’s back and he could hear the rattle of leaves and frightened howls fade into the underbrush.</p><p>Bright white light chased off every shadow to the deepest corners. Bird screeches and chittering followed as animals ran from the oncoming danger. A shockwave of energy flung debris out in all directions. Junior pressed his body close to the ground and covered his face to ride it out. He could feel the energy pass over him. Clinging to his body and chasing away all that might harm him. It was familiar. He had felt it before, but no memory came. It was powerful, and safe. He was safe now.   </p><p>When the air stilled and the energy faded, Junior rose onto shaky legs to catch a glimpse of his savior. The light dimmed and solidified into a single point. A figure emerged from the light, towering above him with a look of displeasure. An aged face with sharp angles and fangs gritted in a scowl. Dressed in a blue and white robe, with an unfamiliar symbol. Weathered and clawed hands wrapped tight around a heavy oak staff. Junior peered up into a face covered in emerald skin, just like his. He felt his heart stop and he couldn’t help the tears that ran from his eyes.</p><p>His father had come back! His father had returned from the dead to rescue him!</p><p>His father would be displeased with how weak he was. That the Great King Piccolo had to defy death to come and save his pathetic excuse for a legacy, but junior didn’t care. His was so happy to be alive, to see his father again. Junior stumbled and ran to the feet of his maker.</p><p>“Father! You came back! Thank you! You came back!” Tiny clawed hands gripped tight to King Piccolo’s robes as Junior buried his face into the clean fabric.</p><p>“What?” Junior winced at the irritation in his father’s voice, but he refused to let go. His father would punish him for acting so weak, but Junior would withstand a thousand lashes for this moment. His father rescued him. His father cared about him. He wiped his eyes on the hem of his father’s robe and looked into his father’s piercing eyes.</p><p>“I’m so happy. Now we can do it together, you and me. We can rule the world together, just like you wanted.” He could feel his heart swell. He could do it now. With his father to protect him until he as strong enough, they could do it. They could rule the world and get revenge on those that called them monsters. The demon clan would subjugate all those who would oppose them. He wouldn’t be alone anymore.</p><p>But Junior was confused. His father had called upon Shenron to grant him eternal youth, and yet here he stood, weathered and weakened with age. But it had to be King Piccolo, he had the same face a Junior. Same green skin he hadn’t seen on any other being. Same antenna that signified their demonic origins. It must be his father. King Piccolo still glowered down at him, but there was something else there too. Anger, hatred…and sadness? His father was sad? Why? What happened? Was it because he had aged again? But that was fine, Junior could fight for him. Once he got older and stronger, his father needn’t fight at all. Why when his son was there to do it for him?</p><p>“I can be strong. I just need time. I’m still small. I can get bigger. I’ve been learning on my own, too. I can control my energy. I can use it as a weapon on my enemies. I know I’ve disappointed you, Father, but please, I can be better now. I have you to guide me.”</p><p>But his words did nothing to dissipate the anguish and anger from his father’s face. There was something else, too. Some twist of a lip, some wrinkle of a nose that made Junior’s heart sink. Disgust. His father was disgusted by him. How could he not be? A noble member of the demon clan groveling and pleading. Something so weak to be defeated by a pack of wolves.</p><p>King Piccolo said nothing. Instead, he reached into his robes and pulled something from the folds. Junior couldn’t make out what it was, hidden by long fingers thicker than his wrist. King Piccolo shook his robes and Junior stumbled to his knees. His father took a few steps back and placed something on the ground before him. The shadows were moving back in now. They rolled over ever tree root and under every bush. They consumed the object his father had placed, hiding it from sight. He didn’t understand what was wrong? Why was his father leaving him? Didn’t he come to save him? Why was he leaving again? He was going too be alone. His father was leaving and he as going to be all alone again at the mercy of the monsters of the world.</p><p>The tears came once more and Junior stepped forwards, ready to beg and plead for his father to stay.</p><p>“Don’t move!”</p><p>As if he had been plunged into the coldest region of Earth, Junior froze at his father’s command. He didn’t twitch, didn’t falter, he dare not even breath for fear of his father leaving. His heart beat rapidly in his chest and his muscles burned from exhaustion. But he remained still, even as his father dropped his staff and hunched over to bring his hands together and knitted his fingers.</p><p>Junior could feel the energy building. His father’s eyes trained on him. Was his father going to dispose of him? Was his failure so unforgivable? His throat felt thick and his breathing grew short. A chill raced down his spine.</p><p>“Please, Father! I can do better! I know I’ve displeased you, but I beg that you give me a second chance. I’ll do anything you ask. Just name it!”</p><p>“Enough of your games! I won’t allow you to remain in this world a moment longer!”</p><p>His father was going to kill him. He had failed so badly that his father wasn't going to bother punishing him. He was just going to kill him. He should stay still. He was supposed to stay. But every instinct he had told him to run. Maybe this was a test? Maybe his father was testing his loyalty? Maybe…</p><p>He didn’t want to die.</p><p>“Help me.” The words were out before he realized he’d even thought them. His father faltered, but the energy kept growing. </p><p>“What did you say?” There was bitterness in his father’s voice now. Junior could hear regret. Was it regret for having created him?</p><p>“Someone, Please Help ME!” He didn’t move. Even knowing he would die if he remained, Junior still couldn’t bring himself to disobey his father. He might still be able to convince his father he was worth keeping. But he was terrified. What would happen when he died? Would it hurt? He was never going to see anything ever again. Tears flowed freely from his eyes. He couldn’t stop them. </p><p>“I don’t want to die!”         </p><p>A voice called out from the shadows.</p><p>“Hey, who do you think you are, picking on a kid?”</p><p>Junior’s head snapped up, but the shadows were too thick. He swiveled his head from side to side but saw nothing except his father still building energy. If his father meant to kill him, then it didn’t matter if he disobeyed. What punishment could be worse than what he was already facing?</p><p>“Please, help me!”</p><p>His plea was answered by a flock of birds fluttering and flapping in fear around them. Something was coming through the underbrush towards them. The shadows parted and a boy, hardly taller than Junior, pulled himself into the clearing. He was dressed in yellow and carried a large pack on his back. An unlit lantern swung from a pole over his smooth head.</p><p>A martial artist. Probably. Most children didn’t shave their heads. But even a skilled child was still a child. A child who could do nothing against Piccolo Diamao. But the boy must have sensed that something was wrong, because he made a dash towards King Piccolo, fists raised and energy forming. </p><p>But it was too late. His father had built up enough energy. With a guttural roar, King Piccolo flung the energy at Junior. As the energy washed over him, he could feel its paralytic effects. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Then, he felt his body stretching. It was being pulled in a whirl towards the thing his father had placed on the ground. His bones cracked and snapped as they were manipulated by the energy wave.</p><p>It hurt. He knew it would hurt, but not like this. He was being unmade. Compressed into nothing. Everything whirled and spun as he tumbled. Sky became ground and the colors smeared together. He saw yellow, then white then green all blurred together. A shadow formed from the colors. A shadow where no light emanated from. He was being pulled towards it. He screamed. He fought against the pull but everything he tried only made him slip closer and closer to the darkness. Junior scrabbled at the air to something to grab, to hold onto and keep him away from death.</p><p>Rough and calloused hands wrapped around his wrists. The boy was helping him. He could see just make out the boy’s eyes through the whirling energy. “Hang on! I’ve got you!” The boy’s words gave him hope and Junior wound his fingers over the boy’s wrists, feeling his claws bite into the flesh. The boy winced, but didn’t let go. Instead, he dug his feet into the earth and pulled, and Junior felt himself start to move away from the shadow of death that loomed at the base of his father’s feet.</p><p>“No. I won’t allow it! There’s too much at stake!” King Piccolo was resolute. He would not give up in his pursuit. Junior felt another wave of energy envelope him and his grip on the boy’s wrist slipped. But his would be savior held firm. He pulled with every bit of strength he had. But it wasn’t enough. He, too, was being pulled towards the shadow. His feet left gouges in the earth as he was pulled along. Junior felt a third wave of energy pull at his body. His grip finally slipped and his claws raked across the boy’s flesh as he was pulled into the shadow.</p><p>̶  </p><p>It was dark. So awfully dark. The kind of dark that moves in the distance and shifts as your eyes search for something to focus on. Was this what death was? He didn’t know how long he sat in the darkness waiting for his stomach to stop spinning. He felt sick and his body ached. He could smell blood and found smears of blood under his claws. Someone had tried to save him. He clenched his fists, claws adding his own blood to the overwhelming smell.</p><p>They were gone now. Whoever they were. He didn’t know if they got away or were pulled in with him. But there was no one else where he was. Wherever that was. He still couldn’t see anything, even after giving his eyes time to adjust to the lack of light.    </p><p>Junior stood and took a tentative step forward. Then another. On the third step, his toe met smooth wall. Like glass. No handhold to climb. He was in a building, or maybe a pit. There wasn’t any sound, but something told him there was open space above his head. A knock to the wall echoed in the darkness. He braced against the wall and followed it with his hands, hoping to find something. Junior felt the wall curve slightly, and he followed the path. But with every step, the wall curved more and more. After what felt like several minutes, he realized he was in a circular room with no opening. He jumped and swung his arms in the space above him and his fingers scraped against a ceiling made of the same material as the wall.</p><p>He was trapped, but he wasn't dead. He had killed things before. Fish, bugs, birds and even a dog. Dead was not moving, or breathing. Dead was rotting away in absolute stillness. He wasn't dead. He just didn’t know where he was. Junior stretched his hands out to help guide him a felt something worm its way over his arms. Slimy and undulating tendrils wrapped tighter and tighter. His skin burned everywhere they touched. </p><p>In a burst, Junior shot two bolts of energy from his hands to scatter the darkness. The tendrils dissolved like smoke. The energy bolts collided with the wall and fizzled out. The brief light fading with them. The tendrils crept back, sliding against his feet and back.</p><p>He screamed.</p><p>Tiny fists beating on the wall that remained unyielding. He called out again and again for help. “Please! Anyone! Father, I’m sorry! Please help me! Let me out!” He kicked at the things winding around his legs and used all his strength to beat at the wall. It never budged. Even energy bolts couldn’t make a dent. He had given up on trying to hold back tears. He banged on the wall until his hands ached and something warm and moist coated his palms.</p><p>Junior was sent tumbling head over foot as the ground beneath him shook and gave way. He tumbled over and over as the room he was in spun again and again. Something crashed into the wall from the other side. The force of it was like a kick to the chest and Junior crashed into the opposite wall. The room stopped turning, coming to a rest on its side. Junior struggled to find his footing on the now curved floor when the room shook again.</p><p>It wasn’t going to stop. He would be trapped here forever. He had failed his mission. He had displeased his father and he was being punished for it. He wasn't dead, but he was somewhere worse. There was no light. No sound. No water or food. No birds. He was going to be alone. Forever.</p><p>Junior didn’t notice when the shaking stopped. All he knew was the room was tilting again and he felt his feet slip, sending him sliding. But he didn’t crash into anything. Nothing stopped his fall until light appeared somewhere below him. Junior covered his eyes and waited to drop.</p><p>Something flew by his head and smashed behind him. Junior flinched as warm arms wrapped around his shoulders.</p><p>“Hey. You’re okay. They’re gone.”</p><p>He knew that voice. Junior blinked open his eyes to see the boy from the forest smiling down at him. His bald head reflected the firelight behind him and the shadows highlighted his malformed nose. A gentile smile spread over his face, making hi look dopy. But his hands were warm, and strong. And his eyes shined brighter than the stars.</p><p>Junior buried his face into the yellow fabric stretched over the boy’s chest and clung to him. The blood on his palms soaking into the fabric and wiped them clean. Junior’s throat burned as a wail clawed its way from his lips.    </p><p>“It’s over. I don’t know what happened, but you’re safe now.”</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p>̶</p><p>It was a memory that crept from the depths of his mind during times of calm. Piccolo would force it away, bury it under stale resentment and gossamer lies of having a temporary alliance. But it always came back. Maybe that was why he found himself tucked into the spare bed at Kame House in the early hours of the morning. With nothing else to focus on, no threat on the horizon, his mind pulled up the old memory again.</p><p>And unlike times before, he was no longer alone in his head to deal with it. Not that Kami and Nail existed as separate entities, but quirks of their personalities melded with his own and would make themselves known at the most inconvenient of times. It was still a novel enough experience that Piccolo hadn’t yet been comfortable realizing it was his own brain urging him to examine his memories in a new light.</p><p>Piccolo detested self-reflection. Self-reflection was for those who lacked confidence, who were unsure of their decisions and second guessed their actions. Krillin was one such person. The monk lacked any sort of confidence or sense. Krillin was always unsure of his abilities, and, therefore, always reflecting on his actions. Not Piccolo. Maybe it was something he had developed in the intervening years? Something learned from Gohan, or something he inherited from Kami.</p><p>
  <em>Or maybe you just care for him? He cares about you.</em>
</p><p>Piccolo shook his head to rid himself of the thought that sounded frustratingly like Kami. He sighed and tried to relax in the soft sheets, but his mind refused to stop. Clawed fingers absently tapped out a melody over the wooden pendant hidden under his gi. It was roughly carved, lines irregular and messy. It was also worn. Year of contact with is skin had sanded down the edges and polished the disk to a near shine. The carving itself was difficult to see anymore unless held it just the right light. A dragon ball, one star. Krillin had said it was for good luck all those years ago. Piccolo hadn’t had the heart to get rid of it. He had thought he had lost it in the battle with Vegeta and his goon, but Krillin had slipped it from his body and kept it tucked away at Kame House. Krillin had returned it some months after he was revived. Aside from his clothes, it was his only belonging. And despite his resistance to the feeling, he was especially attached to it.</p><p>Or maybe his exhaustion was simply making him ruminate and wax poetically. If he kept it up, he could write a book on the philosophy of unnecessary. Gohan would be proud his is academic pursuits. His eyelids grew heavy and the rhythmic waves dulled his senses and lulled him to sleep.</p><p>-End-   </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Morning Errands and Grumpy House Guests</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Krillin wakes to his master's screeching and runs some errands. And Piccolo struggles with his uncontrolled abilities to see into people's minds.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A shrill screech rocks the isolated quiet of Kame House. The sound stabs its way into Krillin’s head and twists. He could tell that his morning would be graced with the mother of all headaches. Though it’s his own fault for staying up. He briefly considers ignoring the ruckus and drifting back off to sleep. He had been having the most wonderful dream. He remembered blue eyes and warm, soft hands. It was glorious. They had been sitting on the beach listening to the waves and enjoying the sun. He had just leaned over to finally kiss those silk lips, feeling their long nails scratch against his jaw and pulling him closer, closer…when…</p><p>“KRILLIN!”</p><p>He groaned and pressed his pillow tighter around his ears to muffle the noise. He was going to need a pot of coffee and a bottle of aspirin to make it through the day. Vibrations of something organic falling down the stairs and slamming into a wall reverberated through the house. He knew that tone. It was the tone his master used when Krillin had done something Roshi found especially asinine. Laced with a hint of accusation. Morning was not going to be kind to him, it seemed. Krillin reluctantly pulled his head from its pillowy cocoon and blindly groped his way from under the blankets and rolled over onto…the living room rug?</p><p>
  <em>What? Why am I…?</em>
</p><p>“KRILLIN! WHERE ARE YOU?!”</p><p>“STOP. YELLING.”</p><p>Krillin sat up and scrubbed at his eyes to get some semblance of sight back. His eyes felt puffy and crusty and the sunlight pouring in from the window made his head throb. He had thought he heard a second voice coming from somewhere upstairs and was inclined to agree with it. It was bad enough the sun was out to get him, he didn’t need his master’s voice rattling around in his skull too. As much as he wanted to flip off the world and go back to dreamland, he really should figure out what had his master screeching so early in the morning.</p><p>Krillin stumbled to his feet and shivered at the chill in the air. It seemed his master had felt he needed some fresh air and had opened every window in the house. His weighted undershirt and boxers did nothing to to block the sea breeze. He tottered over to the foot of the stairs and braced himself against the door jam when his vision blurred and everything got bright.</p><p>“Huuuuuhh?”</p><p>More of a groan than a question. But even as his head pounded and his eyes crossed, Krillin was aware enough to recognize his master flopped in a heap at the base of the stairs.  His old master’s shades were missing a lens and the frames sat crooked on his face.</p><p>“Where were you, boy? We’ve got company?” Krillin watched as his master cupped his hands over his mouth and muttered in what was supposed to be a whisper but was nothing of the sort, “It’s Piccolo. I don’t know what he wants, but thankfully it isn’t food.” The Turtle Hermit stood and waved Krillin over to the kitchen. “But before you deal with that, I need you to do me a favor.”</p><p>Krillin blindly followed Roshi to the tiny alcove of a kitchen and noticed his master was trailing sand or gravel, or something small and hard and digging into the soles of his feet. It was far too early to be too concerned with it. No doubt he’d be on cleaning duty with Puar and Oolong remaining behind in the city. But everything, including whatever his master wanted, could wait long enough for him to ingest the elixir of the gods. It was bad for him, he knew that, but with so little sleep, he doesn’t trust his feet to hold him more than a few paces. </p><p>“Coffee first.” Krillin made a point by grabbing the empty coffee pot as he passed and turned on the water.</p><p>“Sorry, my boy. Fresh out. In fact, we don’t have much of anything in the way of food. Too many people coming and going. Too many bodies to keep healthy.”</p><p>Krillin felt his heart sink as he watched the water slowly fill the glass pot. Water that would never know the glory of being imbued with the life-giving essence of hand roasted beans grown on the highest plateau and blessed by Kami himself. Or not, but on days like this, Krillin sure felt like coffee was some divine gift. With his head throbbing in beat with the water hitting the bottom of the pot, Krillin felt like crying.</p><p>“Got some tea left.” Roshi said excitedly, opening the pantry. His voice lost its hopeful edge when he pulled out the box of tealeaves. “But I’m not sure how old it is. Hmm.”</p><p>Krillin blinked at the slowly filling pot, still lost in his dreary, coffee-less sorrow. He barely noticed when the water was turned off and Roshi patted his shoulder solemnly as he pulled the pot away and turned on the stove. Tea would have to do. At least there was breakfast to look forward to.</p><p>Or there would be.</p><p>The wide-open pantry door revealed a deep walk-in closet space usually overflowing with dried meat, canned goods and shelf stable vegetables. It was bare. A rusty can with a faded label that was probably older than he was, sat on the bottom shelf. So that was no coffee and no breakfast. If they were out of aspirin, Krillin was not going to be responsible for his actions.</p><p>His master held out a hand with a tiny pill and a bruised senzu bean. Krillin felt his stomach gurgle.</p><p>“Sorry, son.”</p><p>Krillin chewed the bean and took the pill with a cupped hand full of water. Sure, he felt full, but it didn’t sit the same as a home cooked meal. At least he felt more awake, and his headache was waning. With a stretch and a pop from his back that sounded horrific but felt amazing, Krillin was, begrudgingly, prepared for the day.      </p><p>“I need you to run into town and stock up. I’ve got a list here, but the plane is fresh out of gas, or I’d go myself.” His master huffed and brandished a fat scroll at him. Krillin took it and unrolled a list long enough to warrant belonging to the Son residence. The tail end skid over the floor and disappeared into the living room. There were some things on the list Krillin knew he was going to have trouble finding. His master’s preferred brand of tea was sold by a tiny mining village in the middle of a mountain valley. He’d have to stop by Babba’s temple to collect some of the rarer spices, and he would have better luck locating the dragon balls than he would at finding a white-tipped phoenix for its eggs.   </p><p>Roshi tossed three capsules at him, all with the number ten etched on the tube. Basic storage capsules. Each large enough to store enough food for several weeks if not months. He was going to be gone all day, if not longer. It wasn't the first time Krillin wished he’d had Goku teach him that instant transmission technique.</p><p>With his day planned out, Krillin shuffled up the stairs to the room he and Goku spent a great deal of their childhood in. His master had offered it to him on a temporary basis during the last few years while they were training to combat the androids. They both knew the offer was indefinite. He didn’t really have any other place to go. The tiny apartment he’d shared with Maron was leased under her name. It had been a reckless decision, but as Krillin lacked the proper identification required to legally lease anything, he hadn’t had much of a choice. Living with his master wasn’t all that bad, if he could ignore the uncomfortable prevalence of women’s lingerie magazines. It’s not like he could rightly complain. He had one or two tucked in the bottom of a drawer under piles and piles of uninteresting junk.</p><p>He passed by a hole in the wall leading to his room. The drywall flaked away and rained down to the carpet like sand. Krillin frowned and inspected the hole. No studs were broken and whatever had gone through it had missed the electrical wired tucked near the floorboards. As it didn’t require his immediate attention, he decided to ignore it in favor of finding something more appropriate to wear into town. Pushing open the door, Krillin was blinded by a blast of sunlight that could rival Tienshinhan’s best Solar Flare. “Oh, Kami! Ow…” The aspirin he took would keep his headache at bay, but it was sure putting up a fight. A coarse voice, thick with sleep and disuse and a hint of amusement, tugged at his ears.</p><p>“Kami isn’t here. Dende might listen to your prayers, though.”</p><p>Krillin blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light and was graced with a bizarre sight. Piccolo sat with his back propped against the pillows, white sheet draped across his chest and lap. His eyes were closed, but his face was turned towards the open window, breathing in the sea air. The sunlight reflected off his emerald skin making him shimmer. He was fiddling with a chord hanging from his thick neck, fingers rolling the leather back and forth. Krillin watched the slow rise and fall of Piccolo’s chest for a few moments before shaking himself awake.</p><p>“Huh? Oh, right, you…you’re here.” Obviously Piccolo was there. Krillin had invited him to stay. And, if his addled memory from a few hours ago was correct, he had offered Piccolo his room in place of sleeping on the cot downstairs. Krillin felt his throat go tight. Without the cover of darkness, he was far less confident speaking to the Namekian. Much had changed since their easy nights spent around the campfire. And there had been a lot of bad blood between them after the end of the twenty third world tournament. Krillin chose Goku, and Piccolo had fled, vowing revenge. He often wondered how things would have turned out if he had been able to work things out between them. He cleared his throat and slowly shuffled into the room. “Sorry, I need to get dressed.”</p><p>“Don’t mind me.”</p><p>He sighed. He had wanted some privacy, and the Namekian knew it. But, like with the coffee and breakfast, Krillin wasn't getting what he wanted today. Fine, if Piccolo wanted a peep show, so be it. He yanked off his weighted shirt and made his way over to the dresser to pull out street clothes. Jeans, a t-shirt and jacket, and a clean set of boxers. He pointedly stood facing away from the bed and his guest as he yanked his boxers off. No point in making this more awkward than it needed to be.</p><p>It wasn’t that being around Piccolo was uncomfortable. Heck, he’d fought alongside the Namek more times than he could count. It was that there was no buffer. It had been years since Krillin had been alone with Piccolo. What should he say? Should he say anything? Did Piccolo even consider him a friend anymore, or just a convenient ally?</p><p>“Stop. I can hear your brain winding itself into knots.”</p><p>Krillin huffed. “Watch how often you read my mind, Piccolo. You might just see something you don’t like.” It was meant to be a threat. Sort of. Krillin knew Piccolo had low tolerance for anything he considered unnecessary – Gohan being the sole exception and able to get away with nearly anything – and Krillin’s mind was filled with pointless thoughts. And personal thoughts. And fantasies he really wasn't comfortable sharing with anyone, let alone someone like Piccolo. Damn him. </p><p>Piccolo chuckled, “What, your vulgar thoughts about the android? Or how much you hate the taste of senzu beans? Please, your mind it banal. Loud, but plain.” Piccolo shifted to face Krillin, crossing his legs and hovering a few inches off the bed. “It’s what makes you so easy to be around.”</p><p>Krillin crossed his arms over his bare chest, shirt thrown over his shoulder. He could feel his eye twitching already. “I think you just called me stupid.” It wasn't the first time, and Krillin was sure it wouldn’t be the last, but he would like to go at least one week without having someone poke at his faults. Vegeta was bad enough. At least Bulma had a decent leash on the Saiyan.</p><p>“No. I said your thoughts were nonintrusive. You are a little dim-witted, but your mind is like the ocean waves; methodical, and predictable.”</p><p>Krillin baulked. Compliments from Piccolo were a rare occurrence. Especially to him. And it was the second he’d gotten in just a few hours. It felt oddly sincere, and more intimate than was typical for them. Krillin felt a wave of heat rise to his cheeks and neck. He felt exposed. Both mind, and body open and bare for Piccolo to dissect and play with at his every whim. And to his horror, he found he kind of liked it.</p><p>Piccolo was arguably the most reticent one of them. He could know your worth just by looking at you and if you weren’t worth his time, he let you know it. But Piccolo was there. Not only not leaving, but actively choosing to stay. And the added scrutiny he was under made Krillin shiver.</p><p>Piccolo smirked. “You should get dressed.” There was far too much amusement in Piccolo’s tone than Krillin was comfortable with. And from the toothy grin stretching across Piccolo’s face, the Namek knew it.</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>Krillin pulled on his jeans and shirt, and threw his sea green jacket over his shoulders before hesitantly sitting on the bed to tie his sneakers. By all outward appearances, Piccolo was meditating. Or napping. Gohan had told him that he had once caught Piccolo napping. Something Piccolo had vehemently denied. It didn’t stop Gohan and Krillin from sharing a laugh now and again as they made bets on whether or not Piccolo was napping or meditating. Krillin hadn’t won a bet yet, but he was getting better at reading the Namek. Like now. Piccolo was only showing the barest veneer of meditating. His body was too relaxed and his hands fell open in his lap.      </p><p>“What about Gohan? What are his thoughts like?” Krillin asked, not really expecting an answer. </p><p>“Constant. Like a waterfall. His drive lessens at times. A low trickle in times of peace to a thunderous crash with the coming rains.” Piccolo words sounded poetic. “It can be exhausting sometimes.”</p><p>“You could just not read people’s minds.” Sure, it gave him an edge in battle, but what point was there otherwise? Krillin supposed the long-distance communication was convenient, and he couldn’t picture Piccolo with a mobile phone. </p><p>Piccolo sighed. “I’ve tried.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Krillin turned to sit fully on the bed, throwing his arms over the Namek’s thigh hovering in front of his face.</p><p>“Since re-joining with Kami, I haven’t had as much control. Unless I consciously fight against it, it’s like being in a crowded city. Thoughts from every direction, all tangled together and constant. It’s hard to think sometimes. With Cell, there wasn't time deal with it. Now that I have a chance to breathe, it’s become unbearable.”</p><p>“Shoot, man, I’m sorry. I...” He really didn’t know what to say. ‘Sorry I’m unintentionally bombarding you with my mind’, wasn't going to cut it. But he supposed Piccolo already knew that. No wonder he was trying to find a quiet spot. Grief made people think terrible and awful things as they tried to process the loss. Krillin didn’t blame Piccolo for not wanting to be subject to Chi-Chi’s raging thoughts. Not that Krillin himself was any better. He knew he could be unintentionally annoying to everyone around him. He also knew that his thoughts were probably a thousand times worse. And Piccolo was still choosing to stay with him to avoid drowning in the Son family grief. “I’m sorry.”  </p><p>Piccolo flicked his forehead right between the moxibustion burns. “It’s fine. Like I said, your mind is a reprieve. Easy background noise.”</p><p>Krillin groaned and rubbed at the reddening welt before standing. “Ha. Good to know, I guess.” He threw on a ball cap hanging from the door knob and paused. “I’m headed into town, and some other places, so if you’re looking to stay, well…” He didn’t know if it was a great idea to leave Piccolo unable to control his ability to see into people’s thoughts alone with his master. The words that came out of the Turtle Hermit’s mouth were bad enough. But he really did need to run errands if they were ever going to eat more than fish. “Just remember we’ve already wished Master Roshi back to life.”</p><p>Piccolo had resumed his ‘not meditation’. “I make no promises.”</p><p>“Right, too much to ask, I know. Well, in any case, if there was anything you wanted, let me know now.” Maybe he could bribe Piccolo into behaving. It worked for his master. Sometimes.</p><p>“I don’t eat.”</p><p>“Yes. You do. But fine. I’ll pick up some flavored water or something.” Krillin closed the door behind him and made his way downstairs. He was about to head out the door when the phone rang. Not many people knew the Turtle Hermit’s number, and it wasn't something someone could just accidentally dial. Thought there had been that one time Yamcha had butt dialed them. That had been interesting.</p><p>“Yo, Krillin here.”</p><p>“Krillin, perfect.” The voice was muffled and sounded like the phone was being balanced between someone’s head and shoulder. But he’d know that voice anywhere.</p><p>“Hey Bulma. Didn’t we see each other not too long ago? Not that I’m not glad to hear that you sound ok, just, ya know, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” Krillin fiddled with the list in his hands while he listened to Bulma fuss around with something metallic.</p><p>“Watch it, mister. Or I may just ask you to babysit Trunks. But, yeah. I can’t find Trunks’s stuffed elephant anywhere, and he’s been crying for it for a few days. I tried getting him a new one, but this kid is just too smart. ~Just like his mommy, aren’t you?~” Trunks’s burbling reverberated through the speaker. “I was wondering if I left it there?”</p><p>Krillin hummed. “Stuffed elephant, huh? Hang on.” He put the phone down and scanned the room. Everything from the past two weeks had been pushed to the sides of the room or stuffed in the hall closet. Extra blankets and mats were folded and stacked in the far corner. A quick rifle through them yielded nothing. The next logical place was the closet, and the inevitable avalanche that followed. Krillin pulled open the folding door to revel a pile of pillows and blankets and discarded clothes haphazardly covering a pile of scattered magazines. Krillin nudged them aside as they came spilling out and dug through the blankets. He found Chiaotzu’s overcoat, a par of socks he assumed belong to Yamcha (he didn’t own a pair of kitten socks) and one of Piccolo’s discarded turbans. And a badly sewn together lump with large ears and button eyes. If he squinted, it might be an elephant. Maybe. He left the turban on the tea table and carried the stuffed animal back to the phone.    </p><p>“Is is green with pink polkadots?”</p><p>Bulma’s relief was audible. “That it! Oh, thank goodness. He wont sleep without it and Vegeta is threatening to throw him down a ravine. I guess it was something Saiyan parents did. Would you be a dear and bring it over?” Bulma was using her sweet voice. The voice that she used to get everyone to do what she wanted. It usually was followed by threats and yelling.</p><p>“Actually, I’m headed out that way. Master Roshi’s got me doing the shopping. I’ll meet you at Capsule Corps in, say in two hours? I can go shopping in West City.” It also gave him an excuse to not travel the world trying to find everything his master wanted. If he was doing a favor for Bulma, Roshi would forget all about the forgotten groceries to hear about how she was doing. And looking, but Krillin wasn't about to indulge him.</p><p>“Perfect. Say thank you to Krillin, Trunks.”</p><p>“Annk oo, Wiwwin.”</p><p>Krillin laughed at the kid’s burbled words. “No problem kiddo. Be there soon.”</p><p>He stuffed the elephant in his jacket pocket and double checked he had the capsules before stepping out the door. He waved at his master but Roshi was already to engrossed in his portable T.V. to notice. Krillin shook his head and pushed off the ground into the air. A rough voice followed after him from the upstairs window.    </p><p>“NOT FISH!”</p><p>Krillin turned and waved, even though he knew Piccolo was probably not looking. “Got it!” He secured his hat and took off into the bright mid-morning air.</p><p>̶</p><p>By the time he landed near Capsule Corps, it was nearing noon. Hopping the back fence, Krillin was greeted to the sight of Bulma’s mother serving tiny cakes to a placated Vegeta. Krillin bit the inside of his lip hard enough to bleed to keep himself from laughing. The aggressive Saiyan Prince, stuffed full of tea and sweets like an overly buff princess. All that was missing was the tiny tiara. Aw, who was he kidding, Vegeta would probably make it look cool somehow. Still, it was a delight to see Vegeta embarrassed and sheepish.</p><p>“You, baldy. You saw nothing!” The threatening tone was rather negated by the frosting smeared across the Saiyan’s lip.</p><p>“Nope. Not me. I’m not even here. Just dropping off Trunks’s toy.” Killin pulled the ‘elephant’ from his pocket and held it out for Vegeta to see.</p><p>“Thank GOD! The brat hasn’t stopped crying at night for days!” And down went another tiny cake to the pit of death that was a Saiyan’s stomach. Krillin wondered if he even tasted them or if he just swallowed them whole. Not to mention envious. His breakfast had consisted of a single senzu bean. He wasn’t actually hungry, but he wouldn’t mind a taste.</p><p>“Oh, Krillin, honey it’s so good to see you. And you brought widdle Trunks his elephant! Oh, he’ll be so happy. Why don’t you come inside and have some lunch? Oh, Vegeta, don’t worry, I don’t mean yours.” Vegeta had just wound and arm around the tray of cakes and pulled it closer, leaning over it with a growl. “There still some leftover lemon cake that Vegeta doesn’t like. And Henry just made some of his famous tuna salad.” Panchy smiles at him and he really doesn’t want to say no, but he also doesn’t want to piss off Vegeta either. He liked Panchy. She was undoubtedly one of the most inherently kind people he had ever met. It was like her purpose was to care for others. He hated to do it, but maybe he could turn her down politely.</p><p>“Thanks very much, but I really can’t stay. I’ve got some errands to do. I’m really just here to drop this off.” But Panchy was already speaking over him.</p><p>“Right this way, dear. And I can make you some fresh tea, too.” Krillin let his shoulders fall. Nope, there was no winning this battle. Alright, one piece of cake, then he had to jet. </p><p>Panchy led him to the kitchen and sets him down at the table with a piece of triple lemon and orange meringue cake and a cup of tea. “Thank you, but really, I’m just…” But Panchy had stuffed a forkful of spongy lemony heaven into his mouth and it took all his energy to keep from crying at the taste. How could Vegeta not like this? It was better than, well, no, nothing was better than coffee, but it came close.  </p><p>“Oh, nonsense. You deserve something for being Trunks’s little hero. Now you wait here. I’ll be right back.” She handed him the fork, but Krillin didn’t really need it. He was perfectly happy eating it with his hands. Or, heck, just taking the plate and tipping the whole piece in his mouth in one bite. It was delicious. Goku would have loved it. Krillin should really save him a pie…</p><p>His heart stutters.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Right.</p><p>The cake turns to ash in his mouth and he chokes. The tea doesn’t go down any easier and he rushes to the sink to spit everything up. </p><p>“You know that’s not the proper way to drown yourself, right?”</p><p>Krillin flips the water on to wash everything away. He suddenly not interested in cake anymore. A delicate hand taps his shoulder, and he looks up to find Bulma handing him a towel, Trunks held in her other arm.</p><p>“I know mom likes to stuff people with sweets, but is it really that bad?” But it’s not really a question. She gives him an understanding look and moves to sit down at the table. Krillin wipes his face before shutting off the water and following.</p><p>“Oh, right.” Krillin pulls the elephant out of his pocket and waggles it for Trunks. “This what you’re lookin’ for, little guy?”</p><p>Trunks coos and babbles in delight and makes grabby hands for the toy. The poor thing’s nose is stiffed in the kids mouth the moment it leaves Krillin’s hands. Krillin isn’t sure if it would have been kinder to leave it lost in the closet, but at least here, it will be loved. He smiles and ruffles the baby’s cap.</p><p>“If that everything, I should probably head out. Don’t want to impose.” Krillin laughs to himself and tries to make a hasty exit out the back door. But a surprisingly strong grip on his arm stops him.</p><p>“Now wait just a minute.”</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>Bulma grits her teeth and sighs. She levels him with a look he isn’t used to seeing on her face. Least not directed at him. “I’m just worried about how you’re doing all alone out there. I can’t say for certain how everyone else is doing, but they seem to be handling Goku’s death in their own way.” They both pause as they ride out the fresh wave of sorrow that fill the room. Bulma clears her throat after a moment and wipes a tear from her face. “Vegeta has taken to stuffing his face and looking out at the city from the roof. Gohan called yesterday and asked if I knew any recent publications on genetics I could send him. And as much as Yamcha puts on a show, he’s taking it pretty hard. He’s really throwing himself into his new job. But I don’t know anything about you. You’re all the way out in the middle of nowhere. I’m just…I just want to make sure you’ve found something to do.”</p><p>Trunks, who had been glancing back and forth between the two adults, threw his stuffed toy at Krillin. It bounced off his chest with alarming force and rolled under the table. Krillin bent over to pick it up without thinking. Too focused on what his friends were up to, now that the world was a peace.  </p><p>“What about Tien and Chiaotzu?”</p><p>Bulma frowned. “Last I heard, they were headed back to the farm. I think Tien wants to retire. They were talking about building a new barn the day Trunks left.” Trunks looked up at the sound of his name but quickly lost interest in favor of the new game he invented of throwing his toy and letting Krillin pick it up.</p><p>“Heh, I figured Tien would spend the rest of his life training. I guess things really have changed, haven’t they?”</p><p>“Yeah. So, I mean what are you gonna do? I know you’re living at Kame House now, but…what does the future hold for you?”</p><p>Krillin paused and was struck in the face by a spit damp elephant on Trunks’s next throw. “I…don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it. I don’t even know what my options are.” What were his options? It’s not like he had the education to net any real job. And it would cost more money than he could win at any tournament to pay for school now. He could always go see if Tien needed an extra hand on the farm. Or construction. You didn’t need education to lift things. “To be honest, Bulma, I never really put a lot of thought into what I wanted beyond surviving the next battle.” He had once wanted to find a girlfriend and start a family. But that dream slipped further and further away with every passing year. And his track record was abysmal. “Well, there was Maron, but you saw how that turned out.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. She was…really something.” He’s sure everyone remembers Maron. She was a hard one to forget. And as much as he knows they weren’t right for eachother, he did still miss her. Or maybe he missed what she represented; he doesn’t know. A stable life. Someone who loves him. Someone to share his life with. Yeah. He missed that.  </p><p>“What about that android, hm? You like her, don’t you?”</p><p>Krillin’s head snaps up. “Well, yeah! But…she wouldn’t go for a guy like me. Besides, I think they just want to be left alone. Piccolo said they were holed up in an abandoned house in the middle of some mountain village.” They weren’t a threat anymore. At least, not world ending threats. Krillin doesn’t put it past them to be rebellious hooligans, but he doesn’t think they would hurt anyone. And after everything they had been through, they deserved to find their own way.</p><p>But Bulma picks up on the wrong cue. “Piccolo?”</p><p>“Yeah, he stopped in yesterday.”</p><p>“Oh?” Bulma’s face transforms. Gone was the charismatic, if prone to emotional outbursts, woman he had called friend for many years. Her lips curled into a wide and snarling grin and her eyes bore into him like bullets. Krillin could practically see the fire erupt in her eyes and devil horns sprout from her head to match her offspring. Boy, did Bulma do intimidation well. Krillin gulped.  </p><p>“What’s that look for?”</p><p>“~Oh, nothing.~” Her singsong voice did nothing to hide her true motives. Krillin braced for the verbal impact. “Just remembering what happened at the world tournament.”</p><p>Of course, she would bring that up. Krillin hadn’t even been able to talk to Piccolo about what happened. He was not about to have this discussion with the biggest gossip on the planet.  </p><p>“And <em>that</em> is my cue to leave.” He pulled his hat further down his forehead and headed for the door, avoiding Bulma’s attempts to stop him.</p><p>“Hey, I was just teasing.” She laughed, tugging at his jacket sleeve. She stopped when he brushed her aside. She followed him to the door. “Think about what I said, ok? And call me once in a while. If you don’t, I’ll call you. Or send Vegeta. You don’t want that.” No, he really didn’t. A house call from Vegeta would leave him in the hospital for several months. And a demolished house. If he was lucky.  </p><p>“Iye yie yie, alright! Once a week. Happy?” Krillin threw his hands in the air as a show of peace.</p><p>She sighed, shoulders drooping. Trunks burbled as he struggled to hold onto his toy and her shirt at the same time. “Good enough.”</p><p>Krillin nodded. “Alright, later” He was in the air before he could hear anything else she said. Her words had struck multiple chords. What would he do? Sure, he could keep training and getting stronger, but was that all? Maybe he could wander around town for help wanted ads while he was out shopping. If nothing else, it might give him some idea of what jobs were out there. Bulma had a point. Right now, it was best to keep busy. Even if it was only making sure his new house guest didn’t send his master to Otherworld.       </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Strangest Things in the World are People We Call Friend.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Junior wakes up after his encounter with Kami and learns about the boy who saved him. They travel and train together to prepare for the World Martial Arts Tournament. And Junior learns more about the world he seeks to rule over.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Instead of writing a whole separate fic or interspersing flashback scenes throughout, I thought I'd try something different. Every other chapter will be a 'flashback' chapter explaining how Piccolo and Krillin met and how this history changes from the original timeline. They can be longer (like this one) or shorter pieces depending on how much changed or what happened. MINOR WARNING! I know some ppl don't like anything that might be underage, so there is a very boring and very tame underage (as Piccolo is technically roughly 8 or 9 months old) kiss. That's it. Not enough to warrant a fic tag.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight peeked through the mouth of the cave. Gentle warmth caressed his face and birdsongs drifted to his ears. His muscles ached and his hands burned. An experimental flex yielded resistance. His hands were bandaged. Fabric wound around each fingertip. Junior opened his eyes and and found himself wrapped in a bedroll beside the remains of a fire. An oversized travel pack sat near the mouth of the cave; its contents spread out on the ground around it. Several pots and bowls sat stacked near the extinguished fire. An open first aid kit discarded to the side. A second bedroll was spread out beside him.</p>
<p>He was alone.  </p>
<p>But someone had helped him.</p>
<p>His father was gone. Disappeared or was killed, he didn’t know. But he doesn’t think the boy could have killed his father. Only Goku had been able to do that. And only by luck had he succeeded. No, his father had simply decided his son was of no use and let him go. It hurt. His father had tried to kill him for his failures, but it still hurt to know his father considered him unworthy of even killing. Was Piccolo angry that he hadn’t yet attained the strength to kill Goku? His brothers and sisters had been born fully grown and capable of great things to serve their father. But not him. He had been born immature. He hadn’t yet grown enough to fight off wolves, let alone Goku. Was that why his father wanted him dead? He was a failure from the start?</p>
<p>Junior felt something inside him twist. Like something had knotted his organs together. His eyes swelled and his vision swam. Junior hastily scrubbed at his eyes and shook his head. No. He wouldn’t cry. He was a member of the demon clan. He would prove his worth by growing and getting stronger. He would kill Goku and throw his body at the feet of his father to prove he was worthy. If Goku was dead, his father might forgive his failures.</p>
<p>Junior sighed and flexed his hands some more, wincing at the pain. He could smell the blood seeping into the bandages. His throat itched and his mouth felt thick from thirst. He would usually make his way to a stream to drink and catch food, but he didn’t even know where he was. There was no guarantee that there was a body of water near him. And it hadn’t rained in days. Any lingering puddles of rainwater would have turned foul by now.</p>
<p>Junior threw the blankets off him and stood. He closed his eyes and sniffed at the air, tilting his head back and letting the wind tell him where he was. There was moisture all around him. The cave holding in dampness in the rocks and soil. He paced to the mouth of the cave and inhaled. No smell of large water. Not even the smell of small water, no river or stream. Not even a village well he could pilfer from. And the air outside was sweet, but dry. </p>
<p>In times of desperation, Junior could drink blood. But he hated the sharp taste and cloying feeling of it going down. And it was warm. It felt wrong. It always made his stomach clench after ingesting it. No, blood was not an option unless he was dying. And while Junior felt horrible, he knew he was fine. In his pacing, Junior stumbled and found his foot tangled in the strap of the giant bag the boy was carrying. It had been left open, and its contents were a jumbled mess inside. Junior pulled his foot free and the pack tipped. Clothes and books with pictures of people spilled out.</p>
<p>Maybe the boy had water. Junior knelt and dug through the pack, tossing things out as his hands touched them. He fumbled with things through the bandages and resorted to grabbing things with both hands like he was swatting a bothersome insect. Some cloth wrapped parcels and tools were set aside carefully. While he didn’t need weapons, humans understood what a weapon meant. He could use it to his advantage. More books, this time with different people, more muscular and stronger looking, were pulled out and cast aside. Finally, Junior found a bottle that sloshed when he shook it.</p>
<p>Water.</p>
<p>Without the full use of his fingers, Junior struggled to open the bottle. It had some sort of cap instead of a cork and no amount of prying would make it budge. He even used his teeth, but all that did was leave indentations in the hard material and made his teeth hurt. He was tempted to just cut open the bottle when a voice called out to him.</p>
<p>“Hey, there. Are you okay, little friend? I caught some breakfast.”</p>
<p>Junior’s head snapped up at the voice. He glanced about and panicked at the mess he’d caused. Humans didn’t like it when he messed with their things. He had been chased out of houses, stores and villages for destroying things in his search for food. What would this boy do? Junior held the bottle to his body and picked up the first thing he could reach. It was a wooden mallet with a worn head and splintered handle. It was obviously poorly hand made.</p>
<p>Junior hid in the shadows near the entrance where the sunlight didn’t reach. He clutched the mallet tightly and listened for the boy to come closer. Yes, the boy had saved him. Though Junior didn’t know why. Nor what his father might do in retaliation. What did the boy want? Surely, he recognized Junior wasn’t human. So why help him? Junior hadn’t had much interaction with humans. Their motives baffled him. They would often contradict themselves and lash out when confronted. And he didn’t have the strength to deal with someone strong enough to outwit his father.</p>
<p>Junior held his breath as he listened to the boy’s approach. His footsteps echoed in the cavern. Junior could sense his energy pulsating. Whoever this boy was, he was certainly far more powerful than the average human Junior had come across. He wasn't Goku. Surely. Junior had inherited his father’s memories of what Goku looked like. Round face, arrogant eyes and an aura that grated on his very soul.</p>
<p>The shadows hid his location as the boy walked in the cave, four lizards dangling from his clenched fist. The sunlight reflected off his smooth head and blinded Junior for a moment as the boy paused. A heartbeat, then another. He could sense something wrong. He needed to strike now! Junior tightened his grip and swung.</p>
<p>The mallet came down with all of his strength as Junior aimed for the boy’s head. But he missed. The boy had turned in a flash, faster than Junior could see, and blocked the mallet with his forearm. Junior felt the wood shift in his hand, sending tingling vibrations up and down his arm. With a crackling snap, the handle splintered and the head went flying off behind him. Junior stepped back, clutching the broken handle like a spear. It was all a threat. He didn’t have the strength to strike again. Not against someone with that kind of power. Not yet.</p>
<p>But the boy seemed unfazed.   </p>
<p>“Whoa, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare ya. It’s just me.” The boy flashed him a wide grin and turned so that the sunlight fell over his face. His face was still round a chubby, and it was far more prominent that his boy lacked a proper nose. It made him look cherub-like. But his eyes still shone brighter than any mortal eyes should. “Though I guess you’re still out of it from last night. You passed out after I let you out of that bottle.”</p>
<p>Junior clutched the mallet handle tighter and backed up against the cave wall. He knew better than to grow complacent around a potential enemy. His actions from the night before were shameful. He would not show such weakness again.</p>
<p>Junior’s throat burned and his words came out weak and rough. “Where did he go?”</p>
<p>The boy’s smile faltered. His eyes growing wide at the gruff sound coming from such a young kid. “Huh, who?”</p>
<p>Junior growled. “My father. The one who tried to kill me. Where did he go?” If he was going to find a way to get back into his father’s good graces, he needed to know what happened after his imprisonment. If nothing else, to know how angry his father was going to be should Junior return to his side. </p>
<p>“That was your dad? He was trying to kill you?” Junior nodded. Disbelief radiated from the boy’s form and his goofy smile fell. A mix of horror and revulsion drifted over his features and Junior found that he quite liked the look. He was sure it was an expression he would become familiar with in his mission.</p>
<p>“Why on Earth would your father try to kill you?”</p>
<p>“I have made a mockery of his legacy. I have proven myself to be weak.” He was weak. He knew that. He knew he would need time to grow into his strength and proper form so that he might take his revenge on Goku. But he did not know how long it would take. Or how long he would be helpless in the face of the world’s dangers. No one would fear him. Not in his current state.</p>
<p>“Holy cow, now I’m glad I kicked his face in.”</p>
<p>Junior blinked. He met the boy’s eyes and struggled to read the new expression. Anger was clear. But there was something else. Pride? No…maybe some, but something else. He was pleased with his actions, but not as demonstration of his strength. Junior stuttered. “You…hurt him?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I asked him what he was doing, but he told me ‘Don’t mettle in things that are above you.’” The boy pulled at his face and screwed up his mouth to attempt an impression of Piccolo. Junior felt a bubble of laughter erupt from his throat before he could squash it down. “He was gonna leave with the bottle, so I threw dirt in his eyes and kicked him in the face. I think I felt his nose break, but I didn’t stop to check. Once I had the bottle, I ran until I couldn’t sense him anymore.”</p>
<p>The boy was smiling again. Junior’s laughter had lightened the dreary mood. While Junior preferred his enemies to be afraid of him, he found that the open mouth smile suited this boy’s features more. It was comical to see such a serious expression on this cherub’s face. For he had to be some otherworldly creature or a naive child to go against King Piccolo to save a weakling.  </p>
<p>“I’m Krillin, by the way.” The boy held out his free hand to Junior. Junior couldn’t help flinching at the movement, but when Krillin made no other movement he relaxed. He stared at the boy’s hand, making no move to take it. He knew what a hand shake was. But one only did so when forming an agreement. Junior had made no such agreement. Or was this a ritual that humans had? So many things he didn’t know, and so many things that would have no place in the new world he and his father would usher in.</p>
<p>Krillin frowned, but dropped his hand. “Right. Guess your hands still hurt. Sorry. I can take a look at them, if you want. I have some burn cream here, but I don’t know if that will do anything.” He gestured to the overturned pack with its contents strewn around their feet.</p>
<p>Junior blinked and flexed his hands a moment before holding the bottle out to Krillin. “Huh? Oh, water. Yeah, sorry.” Krillin set the lizards in an empty pan by the firepit and opened the bottle with a twist of his wrist. A top that twists on? No wonder Junior couldn’t pry it off. “Here ya go.”</p>
<p>With his hands still bandaged, Junior couldn’t hold onto the bottle easily. He would have to let go of the broken handle if he wanted to drink. Could he wait? Would he get another chance? Krillin seemed harmless enough. And he wasn't afraid of Junior or showed any indication that he was angry over being attacked. Junior sniffed and could smell the cool water, waiting for him to reach out and take it. Thirst won out and the makeshift spear hit the ground and Junior gulped down mouthful after mouthful of fresh water.  </p>
<p>When Junior paused to breathe, Krillin asked, “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”</p>
<p>Junior blinked at him. “I don’t have one. My father did not name me.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Krillin gave him a look that made his muscles contract and his stomach twist again. Junior growled and turned away, gulping down more water. Krillin waited until Junior had drained most of the bottle before pulling some sticks and dried leaves into the firepit and igniting it with a flash of energy. He set about picking off the scales and crunchy bits. “I almost had a rabbit, but I don’t have the tools to clean it, so I let it go. But I’ve got some dried elk and bread if you want instead.”</p>
<p>But the water had filled Junior’s stomach enough and he felt comfortable. “No.” He was suspecting more and more that he didn’t need solid food. Every time he ate it, sat heavy in his stomach and made him feel sluggish. He liked some food, but water tasted best. He didn’t need to feel any weaker around this boy until Junior knew what he wanted.</p>
<p>Junior watched as Krillin used a blunt knife to prepare the lizards he caught; skewering them with thin metal rods and holding them over the fire. He hummed to himself as he worked. Some melody with lots of note changes and pauses. Junior wasn’t familiar with music. His father had not had many memories of it to pass on. The noise the humans made was painful to King Piccolo’s ears, and thus, painful for Junior. But this humming was pleasant. It was soft and pitched low, and Junior found himself calmed by the sound. When he finished the water, Junior tried to screw the cap back on, but his fingers were still not dexterous enough for the necessary subtle twist. Instead, he cast it aside and picked up the mallet handle, tentatively approaching the fire and sitting down near its warmth.</p>
<p>“So, if you don’t have a name, then what can I call you? I suppose I could just use ‘You’, but it doesn’t feel right.” Krillin frowned as he rotated the skewer slowly. “I could give you a name. Let’s see, you’re small, and green and kind of elf-like. But Midori is a girl’s name. And you’re, wait, are you a boy?”</p>
<p>Junior frowned and shook his head. He didn’t need a name. He was his father’s child. His legacy. He didn’t need a name. He would use his father’s name if he must, but he had not earned the right yet. When he completed his mission and killed Goku and taken over the world, then he would be worthy of the name. But it did leave the question of what he should use until that time.</p>
<p>“Oh!? I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Sometimes its hard to tell with non-humans. And your voice sounded like a boy’s.”</p>
<p>“I’m neither. My family doesn’t have those distinctions.” His father’s memories told him that humans and many other species in the world needed two of them to have children. His father had deemed it inefficient and chaotic. Junior didn’t have any real feelings about it. It was how things were.</p>
<p>“You’re not a boy, or a girl? Wow. Well, still, ‘Midori’ doesn’t really fit. What did your dad call you?”</p>
<p>“’Son.’”</p>
<p>Krillin frowned. “Real creative there. Alright, how about…well I guess you would be a junior version of him. What’s your dad’s name?”</p>
<p>A moment passed while Krillin pulled bits off his skewer and onto a plate in his lap.</p>
<p>“Junior. I am my father’s junior. So that is my name.”</p>
<p>Krillin made a sound in the back of his throat that indicated what he thought of the name, but he didn’t voice it. “Alright then, Junior. You’re welcome to travel with me if you want. I don’t know if you had anywhere else to go or anything else to do. I was going to suggest taking you home, but that’s not going to happen. I’m training so I can enter in the World Martial Arts Tournament in two and half years. I’ve been traveling around and looking for ways to get better. I’ve got some friends that are really strong and if I want to stand a chance, I need to try harder.”</p>
<p>Junior perked up. This Krillin was going to train to enter the World Tournament. Goku had participated in the last tournament and was likely going to try again. And if Krillin was training, Junior might learn from him. At the very least, Krillin could help him survive until he was strong enough to train on his own. If Krillin was strong enough to best his father, even if only to rescue Junior, then he was a worthy person to learn from. And there was something about Krillin’s cherub face and shining eyes. Something Junior was curious about.</p>
<p>He decided.</p>
<p>“Okay. I’ll come with you.”</p>
<p>̶</p>
<p>In the weeks and months after, Junior and Krillin traveled the land around Korin’s Tower and the mountains of the western peninsula. Both training to compete in the next tournament and both improving their abilities to topple Goku. Sometimes they would find a village willing to rent them a room, but most of the time camped in the wilderness. Krillin taught him how to make tools, how to look for signs of predators, and how to deal with multiple enemies. They worked well together and often outsmarted their adversaries rather than outright overpowering them.</p>
<p>After asking Krillin about his books with many pictures of people, Krillin told Junior they were special Martial Arts magazines and he was trying to learn how to do the moves they showed. Junior didn’t really understand how a lot of it would work, but he supposed biting your opponent while grabbing their legs would make them fall. He supposed the symbols on the pages explained more, but he couldn’t make sense of them. When he told Krillin he couldn’t read, Krillin traded in his ‘Martial Arts’ magazines for some books in the next city they stopped in. Their nights after dinner and long days of training were reserved for reading lessons. Not very long after, he learned what the symbol on his father’s robe had meant. It wasn't his father. It was Kami. He felt so foolish as to believe that his father had come back from the dead. But something in him felt better knowing he had not disappointed his father as he had thought.</p>
<p>In return, Junior taught Krillin the language that King Piccolo spoke. Though his tongue was too small and his jaw was not double hinged for some of the longer sounds, Krillin was able to stumble his way through a conversation. It felt good to speak to another using his native language. The sound foreign to his ears from Krillin’s mouth, but the words soothed him in ways he hadn’t thought necessary.</p>
<p>In time and through bouts of cliff jumping, they learned how to fly together. At first, neither could do more than hover a few feet off the ground, but Piccolo took to the technique easily. Krillin struggled, unable to control his ki to lift him up until Junior told him to imagine a hook in the center of his body, pulling him up. That evening was spent sitting atop the tallest mountain they could find watching as the sunset turned to stars.</p>
<p>Krillin gave him things as they traveled. At first, it was little things. Food he had prepared, feathers found on the forest floor, teeth from a mountain boar that had attacked them. Then came new clothes. Junior could reform his clothing anytime they became damaged or worn, but Krillin had purchased a headband for him. Krillin had said to was to protect his antenna, but Junior suspected it was to prevent the stares that would come his way whenever they would enter town. But the band was uncomfortable and never stayed on. It was replaced by a turban soon after.</p>
<p>But then, Krillin had made something for him. Junior had found Krillin sitting by the fire late into the night with a knife and a piece of partly burnt wood. It was oblong and lumpy and was charred on one face. Krillin had scraped off the char and had smoothed out the edges. A hole had been drilled or carved at the top. It was clear Krillin had been working on this for some time. Junior pushed away a new ‘Martial Arts’ magazine that open on the ground and sat beside his companion. He knew now they weren’t what Krillin said they were, but whenever he asked about them, Krillin always turned red and told him to leave it. Junior guessed that human reproduction must be difficult if humans had to make books on how to do it. But Krillin had left his book open in favor of carving his little piece of wood. The light was far too dim for Junior to make out what the image was.</p>
<p>“What are you making?” he asked, trying to peer over Krillin’s shoulder. But Krillin just leaned away and continued carving, never taking his eyes off the little piece of wood.</p>
<p>“Something cool. I’ll show you when I’m done.”</p>
<p>The soft scrape of the knife sinking into the soft wood and crackling of the fire made Junior drowsy. They sat in silence for Krillin to finish his carving. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of leather chord and looped it though the hole, before dangling it in front of Junior. Junior let his eyes focus on in the dim light.</p>
<p>It was a dragon ball. The wood had been carefully carved away to show a relief of the one star dragon ball. The star was uneven and not center in the circle. The circle itself was more oblong than spherical. In the back was a messy carving of his name. ‘Junior’. It well reflected the hand that made it. Unrefined skill that would require much instruction to improve. But Junior thought it was beautiful. Even more so when Krillin draped it around his neck and tied the ends of the chord together.</p>
<p>“It was supposed to be a good luck charm, but I thought you might like it more.” Krillin said, leaning back to see how it looked. For a brief moment, Junior thought Krillin knew of his connection with the dragon balls. But Krillin continued on. “My friends and I spent a lot of time searching for these. They’re called dragon balls, and there are seven of them. And when you find all seven, you can summon a magical dragon that can grant you any wish.”</p>
<p>Junior knew that, but he listened to Krillin tell the tale anyway. There was so much emotion and enthusiasm behind his words, and his broad gestures as he mimed some of the more harrowing of his adventures made Junior smile. One of Krillin’s gestures had him rocking back and forth on the log they sat on and Junior hooked his claws into Krillin’s gi to steady him.</p>
<p>As he righted himself, Krillin kicked the magazine and the wind caught some pages in a flurry. His face turned red and his eyes bulged as he scrambled to hide the magazine under his shirt. But Junior wanted to ask about it. He had snuck into Krillin’s pack at night to flip through them. He could read some of the words now, but he didn’t know the meaning of them.   </p>
<p>“It’s a book on human reproduction, right?” Junior asked, pointing at the magazine that Krillin had given up trying to hide.</p>
<p>“Uh…well…sort of. I…it’s kind of like, I mean, It’s not really re-um, reproduction…It’s…uh.” Junior blinked. Was he wrong? He was sure that it wasn't any real martial arts. Krillin had folded the magazine closed the wrong way and a page was still visible. Two people were touching their mouths together and looked like they were trying to bite each other.</p>
<p>Junior pulled the magazine closer. “Then what are those people doing?”</p>
<p>Krillin reluctantly held out the page to the light. He wouldn’t meet Junior’s eyes. “Uh, this…this one?”</p>
<p>Junior nodded, even though Krillin wasn't looking at him. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>Krillin gulped and fiddled with the edge of the page. “Well, they um…they’re kissing.”</p>
<p>The word meant nothing to Junior. It was one of the words he had read in the books but didn’t have a meaning for. He was sure it was something that only applied to humans, but he still wanted to know what it meant. “What’s that?”</p>
<p>“It’s something two people do when they like each other.”</p>
<p>Junior blinked and sat for a moment, contemplating this new idea. Krillin was just glad he had stopped asking questions he was way too embarrassed to answer. It was bad enough Goku didn’t understand such things. At least Krillin had help when trying to explain to Goku how babies were made. Krillin turned and meet Junior’s eyes. He should really just explain what they were and let the kid decide then what he thought of Krillin. He took and breath and pulled the magazine between them.   </p>
<p>But Junior closed his eyes and leaned over to press his lips to Krillin’s open mouth. The magazine was dropped to the dirt as Krillin supported Junior’s weight. His fangs stuck out with the odd pressure and pinched Krillin’s bottom lip. A trickle of blood dribbled down Krillin’s chin and he instinctively tried to swipe his tongue over the cut. Instead, he awkwardly lapped at Junior’s teeth and tasted the remains of the dinner they ate hours before.</p>
<p>Junior pulled back and rubbed at his teeth, giving Krillin a confused look. Krillin blinked, dumbstruck, and only shook himself out of it when he felt blood drip from his chin. He wiped it away with his wrist cuff.  </p>
<p>Junior was confused. The people in the book looked really happy to be kissing. Not that the kiss was bad, exactly. It was just plain. “Was it supposed to be like that?”</p>
<p>Krillin had been busy sucking his lip to stop the bleeding. “Wah…like…like what?”</p>
<p>Junior frowned, tilting his head. “Weird…but boring.” Was that right? It was kind of boring. Or maybe he just did it wrong.</p>
<p>“Well, yeah. I mean, we’re not supposed to kiss, so that makes sense.” Krillin laughed and turned towards the fire to hind his read face. But that didn’t make sense. People kissed if they liked each other. Did that mean Krillin didn’t like him? Or worse, did that mean Junior didn’t like Krillin?</p>
<p>“Why not? You said if people like each other…” But Krillin cut him off with a wave of his hands.</p>
<p>“No, no, I meant like each other as in they want to get married and live together. Start a family kind of like-like each other.”</p>
<p>“Humans kiss when they want to have sons?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” So, the magazines <em>were</em> about reproduction. But then why did Krillin say no? Was there some kind of social taboo against discussing it? Maybe that was it. He did notice humans had a weird thing about being seen without clothes. But if that was true, then he had made a mistake. He didn’t want children. And he was certainly too young to make them anyway. Not that he needed Krillin’s help to do it, but still. “Well, then I take it back.”</p>
<p>Krillin giggled. "Ha, no worries. It wouldn’t mean anything between us anyway. You're supposed to kiss girls. Or, well, I suppose some guys kiss other guys, but…uh…” Krillin cleared his throat, and turned to put out the fire and hide his face. "Eh, nevermind. We should get to bed."</p>
<p>Junior might not have understood the kiss, but he cherished the necklace. He wore it every day and made sure to protect the soft wood from harm by wrapping it up in his gi when they trained. Months passed and Junior grew. He learned that while he did not need to eat food, he could use the energy it gave him to accelerate his growth. Soon, he towered above his traveling partner and would often tease Krillin for his more gradual growth. Krillin too, grew, his face slimming and losing the cherub pudginess, and his muscles becoming more defined.</p>
<p>Every so often, Junior would look at his reflection in the water and see more of his father. His face became angular and his nose ever more prominent. Every day he took on more of the appearance of King Piccolo. Junior never spoke of his past, nor his father, though Krillin never asked. It truly seemed that Krillin did not know that Junior was from the demon clan, and so had no reason to treat him any different. And with each passing day, Junior found it harder and harder to tell Krillin of his origins. He was afraid of what Krillin would do if he knew Junior was a son of the demon clan. Especially considering the events of the Twenty Second Martial Arts Tournament.</p>
<p>Krillin had died. Killed by one of his father’s creations for a dragon ball. Krillin had told him of how He had gone to fetch the ball for his friend and was struck from behind. Of how he floated in a space of shadows and nothingness until he was brought back to life by the resurrected Shenron. Krillin, who had unknowingly defied Kami to protect him, a son of the demon clan, had been killed by one of his brothers. It left a bad taste in his mouth he couldn’t place.</p>
<p>But the news sparked his intrigue. If Shenron had been revived, then Goku had gone to Kami, and was likely there now. Junior knew he was capable of surviving the journey, but he didn’t know if he was strong enough yet to take on Goku. Goku was well aware of Junior’s existence if he was training under Kami. And there was no telling what other tricks Kami had at his disposal. He would face Goku at the world tournament and begin his reign at the tournament’s close. So, he stayed and trained with Krillin even as their power difference grew.</p>
<p>But even as he stayed, Junior found it disquieting. Krillin was a friend of Goku’s. Goku had slain his father in retaliation for the death of his friends. Krillin, despite the kindness he had shown Junior, was not his friend. He couldn’t be. Not when Krillin was standing in the way of Junior’s mission to take over the world, and would no doubt take Goku’s side when they came to blows. This boy would hate him. The boy that grew into a man in the years they traveled together, just as Junior grew to resemble his father. But Krillin never treated him like a monster. Never looked at him with revulsion.</p>
<p>But he would. Krillin would turn on him. The moment Junior’s lineage was revealed, Krillin would reject him. But it was better that way, right? If Junior was to carry out his mission, he needed to rid himself of all weaknesses. And he would carry out his father’s wishes. Humans could not control themselves. They needed a guiding hand to lead them. And with power enough to rule, his enemies could not harm him. If the world became his, then he had no use for Krillin. Some boy he had met and had shown him some small degree of kindness. It was laughable. No, it was was best to leave before he became weak and sentimental. If Krillin stood in his way, then he would kill the man.</p>
<p>But even as he flew off into the night as Krillin slept, he hoped Krillin would be smart enough to stay away. Junior’s quarrel was with Goku. So long as Krillin didn’t interfere, Junior would rather not have to kill him. After all, it was distasteful to kill subjects that had provided such a worthy offering as a name.    </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Another note, my original piece had alternative POV's, but since it was all in first person (rookie mistake) I had to state who it was in each chapter. This way I don't have to. I also have some difficulty writing from an omniscient POV, so much of my writing relies on what the POV character knows. If that makes any sense.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Finding Purpose and Night Terrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Piccolo spends the day thinking on his life and contemplating what his purpose is now. Krillin cooks and Gohan finally snaps.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, since Piccolo is having trouble controlling his ability to read minds, anything in 'Single quotations' is thinking through a mental link; either Piccolo reading thoughts, or projecting his own. Figured a note might be helpful.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waves lapped back and forth over the shore. Tiny crests of white froth leaving trails and crisscrossing patterns on the sand. The heartbeat of the sea. The wind pulsed with the lifeblood of the planet itself. Both brought new life to the far corners of the world. He could feel it. The constant cycle of death and renewal of the planet. It’s ebb and flow an ever-present heartbeat in the back of his mind. Piccolo couldn’t remember ever meditating on the state of the world, but he fell back into it like an old habit. He has no doubt where it came from. He had only been merged with Kami for little over a year, if he accounted for the day he spent in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. It was expected he would retain many of Kami’s bad habits.</p>
<p>Piccolo felt the wind trail over his body and the spray from the waves rain down on him. Rhythmic and predictable. It brought him momentary peace in the torrent of grief. Yes, he was grieving. They all were in their own way. It was strange to think he would ever grieve over the being he sought for so long to end. But Goku wasn’t his enemy anymore. In the end, the Saiyan had become one of his greatest allies. Possibly even a friend. His loss hurt more than Piccolo ever expected. And he didn’t know how to process it. His emotions were contorted into ever more tightly woven knots he had no hope of unraveling. Life continued on, and Piccolo was lost.</p>
<p>The Earth was finally at peace. But something about it felt off. Wrong. Something niggled at the back of his mind that something was coming, but no amount of meditation revealed anything. Attempts to see into the future yielded numerous branching paths that spun out in all directions. Nothing could be gleaned from infinite possibilities. Training his body left him feeling frustrated and empty. There was little pressing issue to improve his skills beyond his own ambitions. He was restless. In the past, there had always been something to keep him oriented. Something to work towards. Now what?</p>
<p>The others had lives before. Lives to return to and reasons to continue their miserable existence. Reasons that made their existence less miserable. Piccolo had very little. In truth, he had nothing save his relationship with Gohan to look forward to. He was born with a sole purpose, and instead, he neglected that purpose for a greater good. He ignored his destiny so long it had become moot. His birthright had been taken from him. Goku was gone.</p>
<p>His whole life, he had considered himself a demon spawn. Something that had crawled out of the bowels of Other World to wreak havoc on existence. To rule over the petty humans like a god. In retrospect, it was the worst laid plan, but he had nothing else to go on. His father had given him a mission. The humans treated him like a monster…and in time, he became one, fueled by his father’s memories and hatred of Goku. He had always fallen back on the old mantra whenever he questioned his purpose. Kill Goku and rule. He was simply protecting the Earth so he could preserve it for himself. But it was a lie he told himself over and over. He had lost the drive for dominion over Earth long before he ever stepped foot in the ring with Goku. But it still left him with a void about his future.</p>
<p>He was no longer guardian of Earth. No longer the demon king vying for control. He no longer lived purely for the sake of his other half. He simply was. A Namek that had fled the destruction of his home with no other purpose but to survive. He didn’t even remember his true name. He knew he had one. At some point in his life, someone had loved him enough to give him a name. But in his escape of the cataclysm, he had suffered memory loss. Alone, without an identity, without a purpose.   </p>
<p>He’d lived for decades in the Yunzibut Mountains with no one but the occasional migrating birds and mountain goats that called the plateaus home. Twice a year the birds flew by, never stopping for more than a day or two before continuing on their journey. When he was young, he used to think that the birds were magical because they could fly. They came from somewhere else and went somewhere else. They were different from the goats and himself, though he has so different from both. The birds were not trapped in the barren land that was his whole world for so long. The crippling isolation. He had known nothing else until he was well into adulthood, and though he had learned to be self-sufficient, as a child it was his bane, his fear.</p>
<p>Year after year, he asked the birds to take him on their journey. To save him. But they never granted his wish. Over time, he grew to resent them. He feared their arrival every fall and spring, and chased them or threw stones when they landed. One year, a struggling hatchling met the brunt of his anger and ceased to be. He begged the little bird’s forgiveness, using what energy he had to bring warmth to the still body. But it never moved again. He buried it at the edge of the drop off.</p>
<p>That was the origin of the great anger, the great evil within him that barred his initial appeal to the guardian of Earth. To needlessly take the life from something so small and helpless. His first taste of doubt. Of feeling unworthy. Monstrous.</p>
<p>To a child of Namek, abandonment was the greatest pain one could inflict on another. His people lived their entire lives in close proximity to others. Never without support, never without guidance. Namekian children were raised by a group effort; learning how to perform various tasks and skills by observing their numerous guardians. Though, that may have only been the case after the great cataclysm. Piccolo only had Nail’s memories to base his knowledge on. And as Nail had spent the majority of his life in service to Elder Guru, Piccolo’s knowledge of Namekian culture was limited. He supposes he could ask Dende to expound on their people. But it would require returning to the lookout, and Piccolo doesn’t trust himself not to be pulled by old memories belonging to someone else. Though they seemed in ever aspect to be his own.  </p>
<p>His memories blurred together and intertwined as the barriers of Kami and Nail dissolved. Memories of spending log days under the Namekian suns and acting as both protector and ambassador to his people. Memories of exploring the Earth for many years before deciding he wished to help protect the planet. Piccolo knew that these memories were not his own, but they seamlessly integrated into his own, he often couldn’t tell the difference.     </p>
<p>His compulsions were overwhelming. The part of him that was Kami was drawn to resuming his place as watcher and protector of the Earth. In the two days he had spent on the lookout after the end of Cell, he’d found himself standing at the edge of the floating platform and gazing out into the world. It was alarming how easy it was to fall into the habit. He’d done it without thinking during Vegeta’s fight with Cell, relaying the information to the others, and hadn’t thought about the strangeness of it until later. His hand clenched sometimes without his conscious input, fingers grasping for a familiar wooden staff he never carried. A feeling that he was neglecting his duty to protect Dende at all costs. Lingering bits of memory from Kami and Nail. Fading, and becoming one with his own personality.</p>
<p>He was not the same Piccolo who trained Gohan to defend the Earth against the Saiyans. He was not he same person who fought the androids on the mountain highway to little effect. One would think he would rebel against any overt changes to his personality. Anyone else would. But he’d gone into it knowing he would change. And he was alright with that. He had had time to accept that he had changed. Now came the time to become accustomed to the changes themselves. It was something he needed help with, to ease into the transition now that they weren’t fighting for their lives. And he trusted very few people to see him so vulnerable. </p>
<p>He couldn’t seek out Gohan just yet. Gohan and his mother were mourning and Piccolo wanted to give them space. They were dealing with far more pressing matters than his passing identity concerns. But that didn’t stop him from staying close. Kame House was the closest convenient place. He wasn’t so close that Gohan could sense his presence, and he had access to human technology. Namely a telephone. He had no confidence in using the contraption, but there were others who could. And he suspected that Gohan might reach out to his father’s friends in the coming days.   </p>
<p>He was worried about the boy. Piccolo didn’t understand much of human emotions and behaviors, but he knew his student. And Gohan was not handling the death of his father well. He was cheery, and doing everything he could to please his mother, but Piccolo could sense a storm brewing under Gohan’s façade. He would not intrude unless Gohan needed him. But nothing would stop him from remaining close by for when that day came.</p>
<p>And there was an odd sort of familiarity to Kame House. Its garish coloring sparking feelings of calm and safety. Maybe that was it, why he felt so restless. He was unconsciously looking for a place that felt safe. They’d been so focused on the challenge ahead, without any respite. Everyone had returned home, or returned to places that served as home. Piccolo didn’t have one. As much as Dende would love to accommodate him, and despite Kami’s memories, the lookout had never been ‘home’. Not to him. It had been Kami’s. The closest he’d ever called ‘home’ was the Son residence. He’d stayed with them for the past three years while preparing for the androids’ arrival. But it wasn't his. It belonged to Gohan and his mother, with the lingering fog of Goku’s memory.</p>
<p>He’d lived much of his life in the wastelands and remote mountains. Places where few people dared to tread. Places long forgotten about and far removed from society. There was no other place he belonged. No other place he could call his and his alone. He was back to square one, only this time, he didn’t have his rivalry with Goku to keep him going. It all came back to that. Everything. He didn’t know what his purpose was anymore. What comes after this? Peace without a latent threat. His numerous attempts to integrate with human society ended in failure.</p>
<p>He knows how to be human, in theory. But he isn’t human. He is more removed from the humans as the Saiyans were.</p>
<p>He can’t just…exist, can he?</p>
<p>What did other people do in their lives? How did they exist? Work? Unnecessary. Work was only required to earn money to exchange for things you could not provide for yourself. He had no need for money. Family? Besides Dende, he was the only one of his kind on Earth, and he had no immediate desire to have a child. He had Gohan, that was enough. Friends? Were they his friends? Sure, they were allies, now. And knew that in the heat of battle, they could be depended on to have his back. But friends? What is he to the people he’s fought alongside? A temporary ally? An enemy? A shield, protector? Or just a vessel for the Dragon Balls? Did they consider him a friend?</p>
<p>He didn’t sit and talk to them like he did Gohan. He didn’t sit in silence with them simply because it was more enjoyable than sitting alone. He didn’t know what they wanted for the future. Didn’t know what they feared most in the world. Some part of him wanted to. Some long-neglected part of his mind urged him to reach out and learn more about the people he had stood shoulder to shoulder with. Some part of him didn’t care. They didn’t care to get to know him, so why should he bother?</p>
<p>Piccolo chose to ignore the creaking voice in his head that said he had never given anyone a reason to want to get to know him either. And that despite his callous and disparaging demeanor, some of them had broken through to his heart.</p>
<p>Gohan. Dear, sweet and amazing Gohan who had reached out to him time and time again, desiring only friendship. He was so proud of him. Gohan had made unbelievable strides in his training. He had surpassed every expectation Piccolo had ever had and kept striving further. And despite his Saiyan blood, Gohan had kept his caring and selfless demeanor. His years of battle had not yet eroded away all that was good about him. He had not become jaded to the world. Gohan still had the lifeblood of goodness in him, and Piccolo greedily drank from it. How could he not? The boy had never once been frightened of him. Never once called him a monster. Gohan had accepted him immediately, with no conditions or stipulations.</p>
<p>It was more than he could say for anyone else who dared call him friend.</p>
<p>It was a memory he tried not to think about. He knew why. He understood why. Hell, he agreed that choosing to side with him against Goku was no choice at all. But it still hurt. It still hurt to be betrayed so readily, so easily cast aside as soon as it became inconvenient. Piccolo <em>knows </em>why. He <strong><em>knows!</em></strong> But it still felt like a dagger to his heart. And though he has forgiven it, the pain lingers like a bad smell. And the memory eats at his confidence. Takes every bit of surety in who he is and what he knows is right and tears it down again and again. It makes his question every choice he’s made and what would happen if he chose wrong. Would he be abandoned like before? Would <em>Gohan</em> reject him?            </p>
<p>No. It was preposterous to think like that. Gohan would never do something like that. Even if Piccolo decided to use downtown West City as target practice, Gohan would defend him. Even if Piccolo attacked him, Gohan wouldn’t fight back. And that knowledge alone is startling. That Gohan trusts him that much. That any of them trust him that much. Trust was so hard to earn and so easily broken. But he’d come by it without even realizing. He’d gone from terrifying villain to trusted ally in only a few years. And they accepted him. He was part of the gaggle of people that had surrounded themselves around Goku. Pathetic moths to a flame.</p>
<p>Alright. Maybe they were friends, in the loosest terms. He doubts anyone short of a friend would be comfortable enough in his presence to actually touch him. Or let him sleep in their bed. Because despite what Krillin had said, it was definitely his bed. The whole room smelled like the monk. And Piccolo didn’t have to rummage around to know the room was filled with Krillin’s belongings, and had been for years. Not that he wanted to. He wouldn’t find much of interest besides a box of old keepsakes. Humans put so much worth on their possessions. Things that could easily be replaced, or things that on the whole didn’t matter in the slightest.</p>
<p>Though a voice in his head told him he was a hypocrite and made him aware of the wooden pendant hanging from his neck. Without his cape, it was clearly visible over his gi. He’d taken to hiding it. At first out of fear it would be lost or broken, then out of embarrassment. Gohan had pointed it out during their year of training, asking him about it and where he got it. Piccolo hadn’t told him until years later. The memory and hurt still too fresh. But Gohan was nothing if not persistent, it’s part of what he loved most about the boy. Eventually, Gohan had teased the truth out of him. Piccolo had to swear the kid to secrecy to avoid the inevitable humiliating backlash.</p>
<p>It felt odd to be wearing it again, and so openly. But the monk had been so open with him, it seemed fitting to return the gesture. Even if the tension between them was palpable. But it was easing. They were on the same side now and Piccolo wasn't threatening to kill his friends. And as much as he would deny it if ever asked, he missed the easy comradery of his formative years. Wasn't that part of the reason he’d made the trip out to Kame House rather than lurk in the forest and highlands of Mount Pazou? Though if the owner of the house kept leering and hooting at the television the way he was, Piccolo may just blow the damn thing up. Though he had come out and offered Piccolo some water sometime around noon. He chose not to acknowledge the accusing thoughts running through the hermit’s mind. It seemed everyone had the mind to remember his moment of weakness so many years ago.   </p>
<p>Piccolo growled and clenched his teeth as Master Roshi’s jeers and howls blasted through the open window. One particularly piercing whistle had his ears ringing and a headache bloom. Krillin had been gone for hours now and it was nearing evening. The breeze was cool and carried the promise of rain. He could smell it in the air despite the pungent aroma of bad liquor that the old man had dragged from some forgotten corner of the house.</p>
<p>He contemplated curling up in Krillin’s room to escape the smell, if not the sound. At least the linins were clean and and the room smelled of salt and palm fronds. And he hadn’t slept more than an hour the night before. Mind buzzing even without the added thoughts of the house’s two other occupants. He’d escaped out the upstairs window as soon as the old man started bumbling around and pulling things from cupboards. He sat on the sand and let the waves lap at his legs, uncaring that seawater soaking into his pants. He’d discarded his shoes somewhere upstairs. The soles were thin anyway, no point in keeping them. He just hadn’t bother to make a new pair yet.</p>
<p>Piccolo leaned back against the trunk of a palm tree and gazed at the late afternoon sun. The jeers had subsided enough for him to clear his mind’s eye. It took time, but he could find Gohan tucked away in his room, pencil scratching away in his workbook. Chi-Chi stood stiffly at the stove, listlessly stirring a pot without much thought. Nothing had changed since the last time he’d checked in on them a few hours ago.</p>
<p>If he reached further, he could find Bulma and Vegeta in West City. Vegeta had given up on fighting. He had been shamed by Goku’s sacrifice and had chosen to remain on Earth to care for his infant son. If he went even beyond that, he could see Tienshinhan and Chiaozu feeding chickens. Piccolo smirked to see the purple-haired Launch cooking in the farmhouse. The androids, were harder to place. Not having ki signatures, he had to find them by mental sight alone. But they hadn’t moved. Still squatting in an abandoned house in North City. At least they had cleaned up since the last time he checked. He didn’t bother looking for Yamcha. All he had to do was turn on the news to find that the star baseball player had retired to be a personal coach. He had to search for Krillin and finally found the monk flying over a beachfront North of Kame House.</p>
<p>Everyone was safe and accounted for. He could search for the others, Chi-Chi’s father and Bulma’s parents, but it already felt like overkill. It wasn't the first time he had checked today. And though compelled, he was not going to check the security of each major city like he had done the day before. It wasn't necessary. Nothing but the day to day troubles that plagued human life. No natural disasters. No random terrorist attack spurred on by Cell’s appearance on national television.</p>
<p>Okay. Once. Quick. Piccolo’s mind jumped from city to city to town to military outpost looking for anything amiss. But the cities were quiet save for the celebrations around some plebeian’s supposed defeat of Cell. The magma chamber under Frypan Mountain was dormant and calm. No sign of Cell’s energy anywhere. The remains of the battle ground still as death.</p>
<p>“Hey, you’re getting wet.”</p>
<p>Piccolo’s head shot up as he was ripped from his short turned lengthy scan of the world. His head collided with the palm with a sickening crack and shook loose coconut. It dropped to the sand and buried itself several inches into the surf. Piccolo rubbed at the back of his head, wincing at another bloom of pain spreading across his skull.</p>
<p>“You okay, there? Your pants are soaked through.” Krillin paused to look round the beach in front of the house. “How long have you been out here?”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t matter. I’m fine. Just meditating.” Piccolo grumbled as he stood, knocking the majority of the sand from his pants before giving up and wiping his hands on his shirt.</p>
<p>“Right.” Krillin replied in a tone that said he didn’t believe him. The shadows made Krillin’s face looked pale and sunken. His cheeks red with wind burn and brow creased with stress. Krillin had bags under his eyes that spoke of more than one sleepless night. He looked awful. But somehow, his eyes were still shining. “Well, I’ve got enough food for a few days at Gohan’s place. Should last us a good month. Have you eaten yet? I can’t compare to Chi-Chi, but I’m alright.”</p>
<p>Piccolo fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I don’t eat.” It wasn’t entirely accurate. He did eat, but he didn’t <em>have</em> to eat. It was more a way to supplement his diet than anything. And it did taste good in small doses.</p>
<p>Krillin <em>did</em> roll his eyes with a sigh. “I’ll take that as a no. Alright, one ‘Krillin Special’ coming up. And no, it isn’t fish.” Piccolo smirked as Krillin turned and entered Kame House. He heard the distinct click and dull puff from the opening of three capsules, and Master Roshi’s shouts of delight. Piccolo tuned out the noise, mind reflexively picking up Krillin’s mundane and easy thoughts. Ingredients, storage, how long he could put off fixing the hole in the wall upstairs. It was nice.</p>
<p>Piccolo felt Krillin mentally recoil at the stench coming from his master and make mental plans to find the offending stash and dispose of it. Or hide it better. Krillin had a bottle of red wine buried underneath the front steps after all. Piccolo let them work, bickering back and forth over what Krillin had bought and when he hadn’t. He floated up to the window, stripping his pants and shirt off to land in a heap on the floor. He’d make new ones later. Right now, he needed sleep. And with Krillin’s mind supplanting the dull roar of Roshi’s vulgar thoughts, Piccolo sank into the clean linins smelling of salt and palm fronds and drifted off.</p>
<p>Krillin wandered in an hour later with a plate of chicken ziti to find him. The monk pointedly averted his eyes when he registered seeing far too much green than was usual for Piccolo. The pile of still wet clothes under the windowsill confirmed his suspicions. He ignored the heat creeping onto his face and batted away impulsive and highly inappropriate thoughts about what Namekians looked like as he balanced the plate on the dresser. As he was not becoming the cause of a second hole in his wall, Krillin relaxed, figuring Piccolo was well and truly asleep. He rifled through the closet for a spare blanket and threw the comforter over Piccolo’s sleeping form. He gave the Namek a soft smile before taking the plate and pile of clothes downstairs.   </p>
<p>̶</p>
<p>Piccolo woke to his senses screaming at him and throwing up every red flag and alarm it had. His eyes snapped open to a dark room and a silent house save for quiet snores from down the hall. Blankets pooled at his waist he didn’t remember using. There was no immediate danger but he could sense a roiling power surge near Mount Pazou. He’d recognize it anywhere.</p>
<p>“Jeezus! You feel that?” Krillin’s voice whispered from somewhere in the dark pool of the floor.</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Piccolo could only sense Gohan’s energy and ruled out several possibilities. He was up and materializing a clean outfit before Krillin had the chance to stand.</p>
<p>“I can’t sense anything else. You don’t think it’s the androids, do you?” Krillin’s heart dropped even as the words left his mouth. There was a chance it was, but why would they? What point was there?</p>
<p>Piccolo climbed through the window and pushed off the sill. “Don’t know. Stay here.” He shouted over his shoulder.</p>
<p>“Hey, no way! Wait!” Krillin scrambled after him, not bothering to change into something more battle ready than his shorts and undershirt. But Piccolo was already speeding through the night air and didn’t wait for him to catch up.</p>
<p>If something were to happen to Gohan, Piccolo would never forgive himself. He was sure Gohan would be fine, but if they were holding Chi-Chi hostage, there was no telling what would happen. The girl had seemed ready to call a truce after Krillin had used a wish to help her, but there was no telling what the boy would do. Seventeen hadn’t been there for the battle with Cell, and Piccolo saw firsthand how arrogant the teen could be. He might have decided on revenge now that Goku was out of the picture. If that were the case, Piccolo wasn't looking forwards to having to kill them. He had been willing to let bygones be bygones, let them live what passed for their lives. And if Krillin was going to insist on coming, Piccolo hoped he was wrong.</p>
<p>They crossed over the beachfront and the costal mountain ridge and were nearing Gohan’s home when Piccolo diverted. The power he was sensing was near, but far enough away to not be in danger of harming the household. Krillin continued onto the house with a shout. “I’m gonna check!”</p>
<p>“Go. I’ll help Gohan!” The kid was smart. Leading them away from the surrounding town. He was in the next valley over, deserted and overgrown with vegetation. Not the ideal battlefield, but better than his front yard. The moon was dark, hardly a sliver hanging in the sky. But Piccolo didn’t need the light. Gohan was a beacon that could be seen for miles. He had heard the faint screaming from the coast. It hurt more than just his sensitive hearing. Piccolo could feel the anguish rolling off the boy before he even got close enough to see him properly.</p>
<p>But there was no one else. Gohan was alone, screaming to the heavens as his energy stripped trees and flung the soil around him. He was still in his pajamas, and even from the air, Piccolo could see the tears running down Gohan’s face. No androids to fight, no one coming back to seek revenge. Nothing attacking him but his own demons that he couldn’t fight against. Piccolo’s heart broke for him. But Gohan had to work it out on his own. All Piccolo could do was stand by and be there for him.</p>
<p>He touched down a distance from Gohan and raised his ki enough to let Gohan know he was there. But Gohan didn’t react. He just cried out to the injustice of the universe. Piccolo was bombarded with a tangled web of half formed thoughts and memories. Some true, some fabricated and twisted by a torrent of guilt and shame. Images of Goku praising his son, then turning around and calling him a coward. Flashes and echoes of Goku begging for help, pleading for his son to try harder. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t be what Goku wanted. And because of that, Goku was dead.</p>
<p>Gohan blamed himself for Goku’s death. Blamed himself for how everything ended. Piccolo knew he did. And he could tell the boy over and over that it wasn't true, that Goku had made a mistake in depending on a child. Piccolo could stand by his side and tell him every minute of the day that it wasn't his fault, but Gohan had to believe it for himself. And Chi-Chi hadn’t been much help. Listlessly floating through the house, trapped in her own head and neglecting her son in her own grief. Letting him brew and roil in a toxic stew of self-reproach.</p>
<p>Piccolo had no idea how to help. This was beyond his ability. He could help Gohan train. Could help his son focus his energy, train his body and mental fortitude, but this was more than that. This had to do with the heart, something Piccolo struggled with. He didn’t know what Gohan needed. He had to just sit and wait for Gohan to tell him. If he would let him. Because as much as Piccolo loved Gohan as his own, Gohan was mourning the death of his father. His real father. Piccolo knew he could hold no candle to that.</p>
<p>He needed to do something, but he was no expert in this. There were no magic words he could say to make it all better. There was no telling if his words or actions would just make it worse. He was out of his depth, and there was no Goku to fall back on. There was a chance he could get through to Gohan mentally, but Gohan’s mind wasn't cohesive. It would be difficult to make it through all the fragmented thoughts to reach him.</p>
<p>Piccolo tried anyway. He pushed through Gohan’s flimsy mental barriers and called out to him. ‘Gohan. Can you hear me? Gohan, I’m here.’</p>
<p>There was no response. Instead voices echoed down the link. Screams, shouts, calm and gentile guiding tones. Flashes of black and orange whizzed by Piccolo’s consciousness. Snippets of memories, flashes of the past. All flowing together with so much grief Piccolo felt himself drowning in it. His eyes burned as his heart twisted ever more. ‘Gohan!’</p>
<p>Still no response. He couldn’t even get close. Every movement, every lunge for the core of Gohan’s mind was met with wave after wave of memories, then visions of the future. And empty spot at the table covered in dust. Gaps in the crowd during Gohan’s graduation. Oppressive silence in an otherwise lively home. Piccolo felt his cheeks grow cold and wet. ‘Kid, stop it!’</p>
<p>Another lunge, another wave. More pain. A faceless enemy ready to attack the planet, Gohan standing alone. No one came to his aid. Bodies littered the field, their faces contorted, lifeless, dark. Other stood by the sidelines, too weak to do anything or too scared to try. Their cheers echoed with the villain’s laughter. A burst of light, then nothing.  </p>
<p>‘GOHAN!’</p>
<p>But he was pushed out. Piccolo couldn’t keep the link open and he couldn’t reach Gohan through the boy’s panic. Gohan’s energy was reaching higher. His hair shifted from black to gold in waves. The tell-tale and inimitable tang of ‘Super Saiyan’ filled the valley. There was no mistaking it. They all had the same, almost flavorful, aura. A bitter and sour pit in the back of his mouth that grated against his psyche. But it didn’t level off like usual. It didn’t stop. Gohan kept climbing. Kept screaming, as new tears rolled down his face. Even if Piccolo had known what to do, he doesn’t know if he could get close without being blown away. The trees had disintegrated into splinters. Any debris being flung out of the valley by the wind Gohan was generating. Any creatures that called the valley home had fled long ago, or were dead.</p>
<p>‘Alright, she’s fine. Now what the <em>Hell</em> is going….oh.’ Even over the torrent coming from Gohan, Piccolo could still pick up Krillin’s thoughts as he entered the valley. ‘Oh, Gohan. I’m so sorry.’ Piccolo watched Krillin land on the other side of the quickly growing crater around Gohan. The wind hurling rocks and forcing him back. And Gohan’s ki just kept climbing. Anyone in the world that could sense ki would be able to pick up on it before long. Hell, anymore and he might even cause an earthquake. Piccolo could already feel the vibrations radiating through the ground.</p>
<p>‘Piccolo! Hey! Can you hear me?’ Krillin’s mind, clear and bright, rang like a beacon over the panic rolling off Gohan. Piccolo could through Krillin’s memories to the house. Chi-Chi was sound asleep sprawled out on the bed with a box of tissues and an old photo album. Piccolo wiped a drying tear streak from his cheek.  </p>
<p>‘Just fine. Thanks for checking on her.’</p>
<p>‘Yeah, the whole house is dark. Everything’s fine. I’d ask how’s Gohan, but…well, I have eyes.’ Piccolo scoffed at Krillin’s tone. The monk didn’t know the half of it.</p>
<p>‘I can’t get through to him. He’s panicking.’</p>
<p>Krillin’s shoulder’s slumped, his face obscured by the blinding light from Gohan. They were both powerless to stop it. Gohan needed something to ground him, something real to pull him out of his own mind. No telling what would help, and what would trigger a panic induced fight of flight reaction. Piccolo wasn't willing to risk it. If Gohan thought he was being attacked, well, there was a full year to wait to undo any damage.   </p>
<p>While Piccolo was weighing the chances of Gohan burning himself out before sunrise, Krillin had moved forward and slowly made his way, inch by agonizing inch towards the crater’s edge. Krillin was going to try and reach him. And possibly get himself killed.  </p>
<p>‘Don’t! He’s not coherent now. He’ll hurt you!’</p>
<p>‘I don’t care!’</p>
<p>Krillin punctuated the thought with a slow step. Then another. He marched with purpose, blocking his face and deflecting larger waves of energy. The debris flying at him only a marginal annoyance. Piccolo watched as Gohan’s raw energy sliced through Krillin’s exposed skin anywhere it found a weakness. His arms, legs, tearing through his shirt to chew on tender flesh. Piccolo could smell the blood, thick and pungent. It mixed with Gohan’s aura and made him feel nauseous. But Krillin kept getting closer and closer, even as Gohan’s energy spiked and they felt the raw power that took down Cell wash over them.</p>
<p>It seemed to take hours for Krillin to reach the center of the crater and Gohan. He stood on his toes and gathered the grieving boy in his arms. More gashes, and more blood dripped as his human body was pummeled by fresh waves of energy. But he held tight, squeezing Gohan to him even as the boy screamed. Gradually, ever so gradually, Gohan’s energy faded, before it disappeared altogether. The light winking out as he collapsed against Krillin and they both fell to their knees.</p>
<p>Piccolo blinked rapidly to let his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness. His heart beat in uneven bursts, and he felt the faint bitter bile of shame well up in his throat. He cast aside the feeling and stepped forward. He could hear the sobs and hiccups even before he climbed down the crater’s edge to them.</p>
<p>“It-it’s not fair! I did it! I could have done-done it then! Why didn’t I jus’ do what he asked me?”</p>
<p>Piccolo stood close, watching Krillin rub small circles over his back. His voice low and gentile. “Gohan, this isn’t your fault. None of this was your fault.”</p>
<p>“But I wasn't fast enough! I could have saved him! I could have been better! Why didn’t he let us save him?”</p>
<p>But they had no answers. And their silence rang louder than Gohan’s cries. Krillin said nothing. There wasn't anything he could say to make it better. Goku had chosen for himself.</p>
<p>“I f-failed. I failed him. I wasn’t good enough!” Water ran down his nose and ripped from his cheeks. Krillin used the edge of his shirt to wipe the tears away.</p>
<p>“Gohan, stop. You know that isn’t true. You didn’t fail. You won.” He said, sounding desperate for the boy to believe him. But it was the wrong thing to say. The tears were coming faster than Krillin could wipe them away. Instead, he pulled Gohan to him, carding his fingers through the boy’s hair. Krillin looked up at Piccolo, eyes wide and pleading for help.</p>
<p>Piccolo knelt beside them, broad hand pressing into Gohan’s back as he tried to force the boy’s mind to calm.</p>
<p>“Gohan, my son. I’m so proud of you. You are enough. You’ve always been enough.” He leaned down and pressed cool lips to Gohan’s power warm scalp. “I love you, Gohan.”</p>
<p>Quiet filled the space between them. Gohan’s wails dimming to dull murmurs, punctuated with the occasional hiccup. A tiny hand wrapped around emerald fingers and squeezed. Krillin rocked them gently, slowing his breathing in the hopes Gohan would do the same. “We both do,” he whispered into Gohan’s hair.  </p>
<p>“I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore.”</p>
<p>Krillin pulled back to look Gohan in the face. “You’d don’t have to, kiddo. It’s over now.”</p>
<p>“But what about next time! What then? My dad’s not gonna be here to help. If I don’t fight, if I’m not strong enough…” But Piccolo interrupted his tirade.</p>
<p>“You aren’t the only one who will stand to protect the Earth. You have friends who will stand with you. We won’t let you fight alone, and if you don’t want to fight, there are others to take your place.”</p>
<p>“But…”</p>
<p>“No, Gohan. No. You are not the mountain the world asked you to be. You can choose your own fate. Be strong when others need you, but you do not hold the weight of the world alone.”</p>
<p>They both knew Gohan didn’t believe it yet, but he would in time. And it would fall on them to prove that they weren’t going to let Gohan fight their battles for them. They too, would have to get stronger. But there was time for that later.</p>
<p>Gohan cried until he wore himself out, passing out and going limp in Krillin’s arms. Neither of them said a word as Krillin shifted the boy so Piccolo could lift his small frame. They flew in silence over the valley and to the eerily quiet Son house. The front window had been left wide open; Gohan’s preferred escape route. When they landed, Piccolo made for the window, but Krillin hung back.</p>
<p>“Hey, umm. I’m gonna head back, clean up.” He shrugged his shoulders, gesturing to his blood and tear-soaked pajamas. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning and see if he wants to talk. Unless you’d rather I not. I don’t wanna intrude.” The ‘Like tonight’ was left silent, but Piccolo heard it anyway.</p>
<p>“Krillin. You’re his friend. You’ve known Goku better than most anyone else. He’s going to need you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. But…I mean, shoot. Piccolo, he’s as much your son as…” Piccolo cut him off.</p>
<p>“I know that!” His voice was harsh, hard and filled with irritation. He loved Gohan like a son, and he was sure Gohan felt the same, but Piccolo was doing a piss poor job of being there if he was just going to let Gohan wear himself out. Krillin had stepped forwards and did what Piccolo should have done. Something vulnerable he wasn't comfortable doing. “I know. But I can’t do what you did. I don’t know what he needs.”</p>
<p>Piccolo took a breath, meeting Krillin’s eyes in the darkness. “Will you help?” The reply came not a moment later.</p>
<p>“Of course. Always.”</p>
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